“Is there food left over?”
He folded his arms against his chest. “That depends on how good you cook, I guess. Do we have a deal, Miss Payne?”
“Your pa is okay with this?”
Ah. The fly in the damned ointment. “He will be.”
She arched one brow and suspicion glinted in her eyes again. “I don’t like the sound of that. You haven’t told him about this exchange you’ve hatched?”
“Not yet. I wanted to get your consent before I spoke to him about it.”
“Don’t you imagine he’ll take to it like a green colt takes to his first saddle?”
He almost smiled at that. “Probably, but he’ll get used to it. Every horse can be saddle-broke. You in or out?”
To his surprise, she stuck her hand out to him. “I’m in.”
He eased his palm across hers. Her hand wasn’t that of a genteel Southern lady, but of someone with rope burns and calluses. Still, it was noticeably softer and much smaller than his.
“Shall I start tomorrow or do you need more time to bring your pa around?”
He rose from the chair. “This is Friday. How about Monday? Mary gets there about an hour after sunup. I’ll tell her about this arrangement. I’ll keep her on to help you out.”
“You don’t need to—”
“She’s been with us a long time,” he said, and she nodded, understanding. “She’s good at gardening, doing the wash, tending to the chickens and goats, that sort of work. I can keep her busy. Anyway, we’re used to taking breakfast around seven. We get our first chores done and then chow down. The next meal is on the table by early afternoon.”
“I can handle that. What sort of tending does your father need?”
“Mainly just keep an eye on him. Getting up is always a struggle and he’s not steady on his feet anymore.” Just saying it was painful for him. His pa had always been sound as a bull and as randy. Seeing him waste away was like watching a slow death. “He won’t allow you to do anything for him, so you’ll have to bare your teeth and push back.”
She smiled as if she cottoned to the idea. “I worked in field hospitals and I gained ample experience at pushing back against stubborn men.”
“You worked in hospitals during the war? You didn’t stay on your place?”
“I stayed for as long as it seemed prudent. But the war kept on and on and nobody was buying any cattle, so when Dr. Perry stopped by with some wounded soldiers, I helped him with them. He found me right handy, so after Papa passed on, I traveled with Dr. Perry through Texas, Missouri, and Louisiana. I left old Malcom in charge of our spread. You remember him? He died last winter.”
“Malcolm was a good man,” Callum said, bowing his head briefly in reverence to the old cowhand. “What happened to him?”
“He went just like Papa. He didn’t rouse from his bunk one morning. His heart gave out and the Lord took him.” She blinked back the memory and gathered in a cleansing breath. “Let me see you out, sir, and I’ll be at your place bright and early Monday morning – unless I hear different.”
They walked out to the porch. He went down the steps and looked back up at her.
“You sure nothing was broken when that cow made contact?”
“I’m sure. It’s just a bruise. I’ve had worse.”
Yep. She was a tough one. “Good morning to you then.” But another thought stayed him and he pivoted to face her. “Eller Hawkins will probably be tending your herd. You have a problem with that? If you do, I can—”
“No.” She placed a fist at her waist. “Why would I?”
He looked away from her, noticed the dirt smudges on the toe of his boot, and shined it against the back of his pants leg. Shouldn’t have brought up Eller to her, but it was water under bridge now. “Well, it’s just that, I know you two were courting right before the war broke out and he up and married Lilah Farley. I wasn’t sure if—”
“We weren’t courting,” she interrupted him with a frown. “Who told you that? Eller?”
“Eller and . . . others. I thought it was common knowledge.”
“Common gossip is more like it. He was coming around me to rile up his momma and daddy and my pa.” She wrinkled her pert nose at him as if she’d smelled something foul. “Just stirring up trouble like he always did – still does, probably. It was never serious between us. If he says any different, he’s spinning tales.”
He nodded, wedged his hat onto his head, and swung up onto Butter. He wasn’t so sure about what she’d said concerning Eller. The way he remembered it, Eller had chased after her like a tom cat after catnip. Everyone had been stunned when he’d married Lilah the day before he left to join his regiment. Well, not everyone . . .
Callum shifted in the saddle and a spear of sunlight glanced over Banner, making her eyes glitter and her hair shine. Damn, if she wasn’t a fine looking gal, even frowning at him like she’d just bitten into a lemon. He reined in those thoughts and urged Butter into a fast trot home.
###
“That’s the most piss-poor, lame-brained idea that was ever hatched!” Seth Latimer’s expression was the equivalent of a thundercloud as he glared at Callum. “Why in tarnation do we want Payne scum hanging around our place, day in and day out?”
“She’s a damn fine cook and her house is as clean as a hound’s tooth. But better than that, our herd gets to drink from Mossy Springs and we don’t have to waste time digging more wells and hauling water.” Callum propped his boots on the porch railing and watched a star streak across the black velvet sky. He’d dreaded this particular discussion all damn day.
“Forty percent? What were you thinking? We should take seventy and she should kiss our white asses!”
“Pa,” Callum admonished.
“You heard me. What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” Callum sent him a steely sideways glare, not liking the inference that he’d taken leave of his senses. “I made a deal that will benefit everyone – and some Northerner won’t be able to grab the Payne land for a fraction of what it’s worth.”
“We got enough land.”
“Adding hers to it won’t be a hardship. I’m going into town tomorrow for supplies and I’ll hire some more hands while I’m there.”
“What supplies?”
“Flour, meal, sugar, molasses, rice, beans. I want her to be able to whip up some good tasting grub.” He ignored his father’s snort of contempt. “I figure three more cowhands ought to do it. She has Hollis and two others . . . but I’m aiming to tell those two to hit the trail.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re no good, thieving sonsofbitches. I’ve a mind to turn their sorry hides over to the sheriff. But I don’t have proof. Just my gut feeling.”
“You think they took her market money.”
“Yes, sir. And I think they’re stealing cattle and anything else lying around loose.”
“Who we talking about?”
“Jeb Johnson and Russell Baines.” He scowled up at the night sky, remembering how the two men couldn’t look him in the eyes. They’d snickered to each other like someone had told a joke and they’d talked to Hollis like he was a nattering child instead of a boss issuing orders. Callum had seen them before at a couple of meetings in town. They were friendly with Eller, which gave him even more concern.
“Hollis and his sister have let them steal and kept them on? They don’t have a decent brain between them.”
“Hollis isn’t cut out to boss anyone,” Callum noted. “Now more than ever.” Even before the war, Hollis had been the quiet, bookish Payne boy, who kept to himself, memorized poetry, and followed his pa around like a puppy. He’d served well in the war, fighting in and surviving some major battles because he took orders like a champ. “As for his sister, I think they have her over a barrel. She’s out there alone and I reckon she hasn’t told them to vamoose because she’s afraid of what they’d do in retaliation.”
“What happened to Malcom DeWitt?”
“Died last win
ter.”
“I didn’t hear-tell of that. Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen him around in a long time.” He shifted on the hard seat. “Anyways, it’s a bad idea. I won’t have that gal here.”
“She’ll be here Monday.”
“You deaf, son?”
“Monday.” Callum closed his eyes and wished he could close his ears to the spate of blue language his father aimed at him. His stomach growled and directed his thoughts to the splendid breakfast he’d eaten that morning. It would be the last edible meal he’d get until she made breakfast again – here in his kitchen. “Monday,” he whispered on a sigh.
###
“You joshing with me?” Hollis asked, staring wide-eyed across the supper table at Banner.
“Nope. I’m as serious as a preacher on Easter Sunday.”
“I won’t have you lowering yourself to cook and clean for the likes of them.”
“I won’t mind that work one bit if it means keeping this place – and that’s what it means, Hollis. We won’t lose this ranch. At least, not this year. Callum Latimer threw us a lifeline, I grabbed onto it, and I’m not letting go.”
“Hell’s bells and peanut shells, I surely don’t know what to make of this.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And he says he’s giving you sixty percent of what we get for the cattle?”
“That’s the deal.” She could hardly believe that part of it, too.
Hollis screwed up his face. “What’s he up to, I wonder? You think he’s working on a way to steal this place out from under us?”
She rolled her eyes. “Now just how would he accomplish that? Hollis, they’re helping us and we’re helping them.” She reached across the table and placed her hand on his. His knuckles were rough and scarred. “Let’s count our blessings.”
“Since when have the Latimers ever been kind to us or helped us? I don’t trust Cal or his pa.”
“Then we will keep our eyes peeled. Okay? If you see something underhanded, you let me know.”
“So, he’ll be my boss?”
“Don’t think of it like that. He’s hiring more men.”
“With what? We can’t even pay—”
“I told you, Hollis, he’s handling the payroll.” Another point she had trouble comprehending. Was cooking and tending to his father worth such a price to Callum? For the life of her, she couldn’t fathom any other reason behind it. Hollis was right. The Latimers had never given them anything but their backs and backtalk. But times were difficult for everyone in Texas and throughout the South. Even for the high and mighty Latimers.
Suddenly, Hollis chuckled. A sound she rarely heard these days.
“What’s got you tickled?”
“I was just thinking . . . if looks could kill, Johnson and Baines would be dead. Cal always did have a way of cussing you out with his eyes. The once-over he gave them . . .” He paused to chuckle again. “It’s a wonder they didn’t shrivel up like t ‘baccer leaves.”
Maybe he’ll kick their sorry butts. Banner brought herself up short at that uncharitable thought, but then refused to be apologetic for it. Johnson and Baines made her skin crawl, and without Malcolm around to ensure that they were working instead of loafing, they were about as useful as teats on a boar.
“I dunno . . .” Hollis ran a hand down his long face. “I’m not sure I like it.”
“We’re doing it, like it or not. Callum Latimer is going to be the ranch boss and you know he’ll get good work out of everyone and keep the cattle we have safe. If he does that much, we can consider ourselves blessed.”
“What if he tries something with you?”
“W-what?” She gave him a chiding smile. “Hollis, please. A Latimer making honey with me? Be serious.”
“He might try to force himself on you.”
She patted her brother’s hand. “He doesn’t have to force himself on any woman. He’s a good-looking man and I know at least a dozen gals who would drop their hankies and other garments if he showed them any attention.”
“Even you?”
Her heart stuttered and she pressed her fist between her breasts. Baffled by the reaction, she realized she was shaking her head. She forced out a laugh. “I declare, Hollis Payne, you are winding me up! Now, get on with you. I have dishes to wash and a kitchen to set right.”
Hollis made his way out to the porch while Banner set to scrubbing dishes, pots, and utensils. She bit her lip as her brother’s question circled in her mind. Callum Latimer showing an interest in her? Ridiculous idea! He wouldn’t. Never in a million years!
To think . . !
She’d noticed that his eyes had light green streaks in them. Verdant green and olive. Dark and light. Like the man himself. He could be brusque and disapproving, but also kind and considerate. She scraped her teeth over her lower lip. To think . . .
Chapter 3
Mary Killdeer arrived on Banner’s first day after breakfast when Banner was tackling the pile of dirty dishes. Catching sight of the woman hovering in the doorway, Banner smiled and pushed a damp strand of hair off her forehead with the back of her wrist.
“Good morning! We haven’t formally met, but I’ve seen you around town. I’m Banner Payne. Do you go by Miss Killdeer or Mrs. Echohawk?”
“Mary.” She didn’t smile, but her dark brown eyes twinkled. “That’s what everyone here calls me.”
“Then I insist that you call me Banner.” She swiped at the errant curl again. “It’s been quite a morning! I had fifteen starving men in here a few minutes ago and I barely prepared enough food to satisfy them. Flint . . . I think that’s his name . . . yes, Flint. He licked the gravy bowl clean!” She laughed, recalling the white-bearded man’s antics before turning back to the big tub full of water, soap suds, and dishes.
“They don’t like my cooking.”
Banner glanced over her shoulder, a ready admonishment on her lips, but Mary’s pleasant expression stayed it.
“Fine by me.” Mary shrugged her rounded shoulders. “Never hired on here as a cook anyway.”
“Oh, no?”
“No. I said I’d help out where I could after the missus died.”
“Oh, yes. I remember Lacy Latimer.” Very well, Banner thought with a sardonic lift of one brow. The woman had never looked at her without giving a little sniff of disapproval. “She passed on . . . how many years has it been?”
Mary glanced up at the rafters in a moment of concentration. “Four. Word came of Maxwell’s death on the battlefield and she took to bed. Never was herself after that. Always sickly. Always weak and didn’t want to eat. Got word about Harrison and she was dead within a week.”
Even though Mrs. Latimer had never shown her a moment of tenderness or kindness, Banner felt a stab of sympathy for the woman. Losing two sons – sons she’d clearly adored – had been too much for her. She’d heard similar stories about women who were shadows of their former selves after their beloved menfolk had fallen in battle. She focused on the dishes again as Mary sauntered closer.
“You gather eggs yet?”
“I haven’t. There was a basketful on the counter here when I arrived.”
Mary nodded. “I put them there for you.”
Banner smiled. “Why, thank you, Mary. They’re all gone now.”
“I’ll go feed the chickens and pigs. I’ll check for eggs.” Mary went out the back door, humming softly.
Banner released a long breath, relieving some of her tension. She’d been worried about how Mary would receive her, but the woman seemed glad not to have to cook. Breakfast had been a whirlwind of men shoveling food into their mouths, making grunting noises, and then thanking her profusely when all the vittles were gone. It had seemed odd having Hollis, Johnson, and Baines sitting with Callum and his cowhands, but they’d all gotten along. She’d been relieved that Eller hadn’t made it to breakfast. She surmised that he took his meals at his own home with his wife.
The only sore spot was Seth Latimer. He’d sat at the head of the table like a puff
ed up toad and had scowled through the whole meal. He’d eaten, but had grumbled that the fried eggs, ham, sausage, gravy, fried potatoes and onions, and biscuits were “Zallright, I guess.” He’d laboriously made his way out to the porch where he had plopped himself down into a chair out there.
Watching him, Banner could see that his joints were turning to rock. He needed to move, no matter how bad it pained him, or he wouldn’t even be able to walk short distances any more. Of course, she couldn’t tell him this because he certainly wouldn’t listen to a word she uttered – other than “goodbye.” He would love to hear her say that!
A deal’s a deal, she recited to herself. When she’d awakened before dawn to get ready for her jaunt to the Latimer ranch, Hollis had muttered under his breath about how Callum could cheat them out of their money and their land and that they shouldn’t trust a Latimer with anything. She’d mulled that over on her ride to the Latimer spread. The fact was that she’d never heard an unfavorable word about Callum. He was respected in the county and beyond. Even Yankees were known to be polite to him.
The sound of a horse’s whinny drew her attention outside the window where a flashy sorrel wearing a saddle pocked with silver disks pawed at the ground. Squinting against the glare of that silver, she recognized the rider and held her breath for a few seconds. Eller Hawkins, Callum’s cousin. He removed his hat and whapped it against his thigh. A cloud of dust lifted from it. He ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair before he set the hat back on his head. He hadn’t changed all the much and she wondered if Lilah was as lovely as ever. Eller had married Lilah Farley, a blue-eyed blond who had been Callum’s arm adornment before she’d eloped with Eller. Talk was that she and Eller had caught “marching orders fever.” Six years later and they were still married, but childless. She’d heard that Lilah had suffered a couple of miscarriages and then a stillbirth last winter.
Deep in thought, she suddenly realized that she was staring right into Eller’s dark eyes. With a start, she looked down into the tub and scrubbed the pan she held as her face grew hot with embarrassment. She glanced up again and Eller lifted a hand and waved to her. Reluctantly, she lifted her soapy fingers and waved back. With a smirk, he reined the sorrel around and trotted away. Banner let go of her pent-up breath.
Solitary Horseman Page 3
