by Janet Dailey
“A contract with whom?”
“I can’t tell you that—not yet,” she chided him for trying to get such valuable information from her. “It’s my leverage to persuade you to become my partner in the venture. If I told you my connection, you might try to cut me out of the deal.”
“My own mother?” he taunted.
“Yes. You could regard it as a way of getting revenge,” Elaine reasoned. “It would never have worked between myself and your father. And he would have killed me before he would have let me take his son.” There was a slight pause before she added, “I believe you wanted an explanation.”
“And you have absolutely no regrets,” Benteen challenged.
“Regrets? No.” She shook her head. “The regret would have been much greater if I had stayed. I would have never forgiven you or your father for keeping me there when I could have become somebody.” She sipped her coffee, delicately raising her little finger. “I am ambitious—just like you are, Benteen.”
“How many cattle will I need for this beef contract you claim you can get?” He returned to the original topic.
“More than you own,” Elaine replied. “That’s where I can help again by financing the purchase of additional cattle.”
“And?”
“And we’ll split the profits on the contract fifty-fifty.”
“It sounds fair.” He leaned against the sofa back and studied her with half-lidded eyes. “But how do I know that at the end of the deal you won’t take all the money and run away?”
“Because I have learned over the years that you can cheat on your husband, you can cheat on your lover, and you can cheat on the household account—but you never, never cheat on a business deal.” Behind her facetious tone, she was quietly serious.
“What’s to stop me from keeping all the money?” There was a slant of mockery to his hard mouth.
“That absurd code you men live by, and twist to suit your own needs. If you give your word on something, you won’t back out,” she stated confidently. “But you really have nothing to lose. I have to produce the contract and the money to buy the additional cattle. I’ll make you rich, Benteen. Is it a deal?” She held out her hand.
There was a long moment when Elaine thought she might have pushed for an agreement too soon. Then he was moving, reaching out to enfold her hand in the largeness of his. He continued to hold it, studying her.
“Why? Is it just the money?” His voice was low, demanding.
“It’s the challenge of making it,” Elaine replied. “I know it’s supposed to be a man’s prerogative, but it isn’t exclusively yours.”
“Why did you pick me? Why not someone like Judd Boston? Was it guilt?”
Elaine set her cup on the table and pressed her hand over the roughness of his. “I picked you because we are so much alike. There’s no stopping us, Benteen.” There was an avid quality to the husky pitch of her voice. “Well?”
“It’s a deal,” he agreed, but without her enthusiasm. He was more guarded, still wary. Elaine wasn’t concerned by that. It would pass in time. “Who’s going to be buying the beef?”
“Your neighbor to the north. Canada.” She explained about the railroad construction, the reservation Indians, and the outposts the Canadian government would need to keep supplied with beef. She was careful to be ambiguous about her connection through which she would arrange the contract.
“Where will you be while all this is taking place?” Benteen asked. “I suppose you’ll be traveling on with your English friends back to London.”
“No, I won’t be returning to London. As a matter of fact, the Duke of Middleton and his party have already left for the Dakota Territory.” This time when Elaine poured more coffee, Benteen accepted a cup. “I’ll be staying here. This venture is just the beginning for us.”
“I thought you ran away to have some of the glitter and the gaiety of society,” he baited. “Are you coming full circle back to a cow town?”
“It’s full circle, perhaps, but I’m coming back in style,” she reminded him. “Besides, the glitter and gaiety excites young, beautiful women—like your wife. It palls, if there is nothing to stimulate the mind.” He hadn’t liked the reference to his young wife. “It must be extremely lonely out there for Lorna. She needs someone to keep her company when you’re away. When did you say the house would be completed?”
“This winter, although we’ll probably be able to move into a portion of the house this fall.” He drank down a swallow of coffee. “The cabin’s becoming cramped with two small boys running around.”
“But it won’t seem nearly as empty as that house if your wife is alone in it,” Elaine pointed out. Someone knocked at the door. “I’ve dismissed the maid for the afternoon. Would you answer it?” She sipped at her coffee while Benteen went to the door. There was a long moment of silence after he opened it. Elaine turned to look over the back of the sofa. “Mr. Giles. Come in.”
Benteen stepped out of the way to allow the broadly built man to enter the sitting room. Bull Giles’s glance swept the room as if looking for someone else before he stopped beside the sofa.
“What is it?” she prompted.
“You asked me to bring you that reply to your telegram as soon as it came in.” He handed her the wire.
“Thank you, Mr. Giles.” Elaine glanced at it only to ascertain that it was from her late husband’s cousin in Canada; then she slipped it between the seat cushions. “That will be all for now.”
After tipping his hat to her, he turned and walked out. Benteen shut the door and returned to his seat. “I thought he was guiding your English friends.”
“I asked him to come to work for me,” she replied.
“Why?”
“Because I have a use for him. It isn’t wise for a woman to go out alone in this country without a bodyguard or escort of some kind. Mr. Giles suits my purpose.”
“He’s worked for Judd Boston in the past,” Benteen said.
“Yes, I know. But his loyalties lie elsewhere now,” Elaine assured him. “Is there a reason you don’t like him?”
“No.” His answer was clipped, which indicated he was concealing something.
The Big Dipper was swinging down to its midnight position when Benteen rode into the main ranch quarters. The big house on the hill was silvered by the moonlight, an imposing sight in this land.
A light burned in the cabin, waiting for his return. When he left that morning, Benteen hadn’t told Lorna where he was going. A dozen times or more he’d been on the verge of turning his horse back to the ranch. There had been a hundred reasons to let his mother wait for him at the hotel and not show up. And there hadn’t been a single reason that made sense for him to keep the meeting. Right up to the moment he knocked on the door, he hadn’t made up his mind whether or not to see her again.
Doubts, uncertainties, distrust, continued to plague him about her, yet he had agreed to the proposed partnership in her business venture. As far as anyone else was concerned, that was the only connection between them for the time being—until he was clear in his mind about this woman who had borne him.
25
It was after hours and the bank was closed. Judd Boston sat behind the big mahogany desk in his private office and went over the day’s transactions while Loman Janes prowled the room with an animal’s intolerance for confinement. Boston peered at him once and continued with his paperwork.
“S’pose he don’t come?” Loman finally broke the silence.
“He’ll come.” Boston didn’t look up to answer. “Curiosity will bring him, just to hear what I have to say.”
“It would have been simpler if you’d just had me fetch him here. Save all this waitin’,” Janes declared.
Boston didn’t respond. As good as Loman Janes was at his job, the man thought with his muscle. He would have welcomed an all-out war with Calder over possession of the range. It didn’t occur to him that Boston needed the goodwill and support of his fellow ranchers if his ba
nk wanted to keep their business. A range war meant people taking sides. Accounts would be lost, the bank business would suffer, and a lot of unwanted notoriety would come his way.
Sometimes his foreman’s lack of imagination was irritating. When the prairie fire hadn’t done as much damage as they had hoped, he had wanted to set another. The last thing Boston wanted was Calder’s suspicions aroused. Some loss had been sustained because of the fire. It was time to create more losses through other means. And in ways that would be difficult to trace back to Boston. He needed cattle range—not a war.
There was a knock at the rear door of the bank. A gleam of satisfaction appeared in Judd Boston’s eyes when he met Loman’s glance. “Go let Giles in,” he ordered.
A few minutes later Janes ushered the bull-necked man into the office. Boston sent him a brief glance and returned to his paperwork.
“Have a seat, Giles. I’ll be through here in a few minutes,” he said. “Pour him a drink, Janes.” The wait was deliberate, giving Giles time to settle comfortably in the big leather chair facing the desk and have a drink of bonded whiskey.
“The king is in his counting house, counting out his money,” Giles recited when Boston set the books aside and lit a cigar. “And the knave …” He paused to throw a look at Loman Janes, but the meaning of the word escaped the foreman. “You wanted to see me, Boston?”
“Yes.” He leaned back in his chair. “I admit I was surprised when you quit the duke’s party. But I guess you wanted to stay close by.”
“If that’s all you wanted to talk to me about…” Giles set the unfinished glass of whiskey on the desk and made to rise.
“The Calder woman is still a touchy subject with you, isn’t it?” Boston observed, and waved him into his chair. “Sit down. There’s something I’d like you to do for me.”
“I’ve already got a job, Boston.” Giles sat back in the chair.
“Yes, I understand you’re employed by Lady Crawford. The hardships of traveling proved to be too much for her, I was told.” It seemed a curious and abrupt decision to Boston, but those English aristocrats had their own peculiarities. “She plans to rest here for a month or so before journeying on by more comfortable modes of transportation, I believe.”
“If that’s what you heard, I guess it’s so.” Bull Giles didn’t commit himself one way or the other.
“Did you introduce her to Calder?”
There was a slight twist of his thin mouth. “I suppose the duke passed that information on to you. All I know is, she met Mrs. Calder before.” He didn’t mention the private meeting she’d had with Benteen in her hotel suite. That was something he still hadn’t figured out.
“Unless you’re at her beck and call every minute, I’m sure you have a lot of free time,” Boston suggested. “The task I’d like you to do for me won’t take you more than a day or two.”
“What is this ‘task’?”
“I understand you know a man named Big Ed Sallie.” He leaned forward to leisurely tap the ash from his cigar.
A quick frown chased across his forehead as Bull Giles glanced from Boston to Loman Janes and back. “Yeah, I know him. What about it?”
“I want you to contact this Sallie and arrange a meeting between him and Mr. Janes.”
There was a narrowing of his eyes as he demanded, “Why?”
“I don’t see that it’s any of your business,” Boston replied, but he sensed that Giles wouldn’t cooperate unless he was given a logical reason why he wanted the meeting. “Actually, it’s a simple matter of bribery. As I understand, if anyone has influence over the Indians, it’s Big Ed Sallie and his bunch of white renegades up on the Missouri. I’m hoping Janes will be able to persuade him to keep the Indians from raiding the Ten Bar.”
“Is that all?” Giles questioned.
“That’s a great deal, if it can be accomplished,” Boston stated. “Can you arrange the meeting?”
“I can’t guarantee it. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Big Ed. But I’ll give it a try,” Giles agreed.
“This agreement is just between us, of course. Strictly private.” Boston wanted it understood that Giles wasn’t to mention it to anyone else.
“I can see that it wouldn’t work if every rancher tried to buy off Big Ed. No one’s got that much control over those reservation-jumping Indians. They’re going to take somebody’s cattle.”
“Probably Calder’s,” Boston said. “Does that bother you?”
“No. Why should it?” Giles lifted his head to a challenging angle, denying that he had any special interest for the Triple C or its mistress.
“You never can tell, Giles. What’s bad for Benteen Calder might turn out to be good for you,” Boston suggested. “See what you can arrange, and get a message to me.”
From the smell of Big Ed Sallie, he hadn’t had any contact with water for years. The flopped brim of his hat shadowed the blue of his eyes without concealing their cunning shine. His shaggy, unkempt beard emphasized the jagged scar on his cheek where the hair didn’t grow. He wore a buffalo coat, a reminder of his previous profession. Its fur had grown mangy and stank with the odor of whiskey, vomit, and man’s sweat.
“Bull said you wanted to talk to me.” When his lips pulled back to speak, they showed yellow teeth stained by tobacco juice. He turned his head and spat a yellow stream at the ground.
“I do,” Loman confirmed. His icy gray glance slid past Big Ed Sallie to the band of cutthroats sitting their horses in a clump of trees. His glance swung to Bull Giles, who had guided him to this meeting place out in the middle of nowhere. “Your job’s done. You can go.”
Giles shrugged that it was Janes’s funeral and backed his horse a few steps, then reined it in a half-circle to leave. Janes waited until the sound of trotting hooves had receded behind him while continuing to measure the renegade leader with his eyes.
“You must think you’re pretty tough.” The saddle creaked under Big Ed Sallie as he shifted his weight and rested both hands on the horn. “There’s some that might be worried ‘bout my friends waitin’ over there for me.”
“Why should I worry about them when I got a clear shot at you?” Loman called the attempt to bluff him.
Big Ed chortled in his throat, a gleam of respect showing in his eyes. “What is it you want?”
“It’s gettin’ close to that time of year when the Indians will be comin’ to buy your whiskey,” Janes began.
“It’s illegal to sell whiskey to Indians. I don’t know if I like you makin’ such a charge against me.” Big Ed cocked his head.
“Drunk or sober, an Indian’s just as worthless,” Janes said. “It’s nothin’ to me how they spend their money or what they trade for. It’s when they go to raidin’ ranches that I want to talk to you about.”
“I ain’t them red-faces’ keeper.”
“But you sell ’em whiskey, which makes you their friend,” Janes reasoned. “If a friend was to tell them that cattle with a Ten Bar brand was no good, they might listen.”
“They might.” Big Ed thoughtfully rolled the wad of tobacco around in his mouth and spit again, not taking his attention from the pock-faced man.
“And if their friend was to say the Triple C cattle are worth more than any others, it could be they’d take heed.”
“How much are they worth?”
Loman Janes slowly reached backward and lifted the flap of his saddlebag to lift out a leather pouch. He juggled it in his palm a minute to make the gold coins inside rattle against each other; then he tossed it to Big Ed.
“And there’ll be a bonus later on when we see how successful you are,” Janes said.
“In other words, you’re payin’ me to rustle Triple C cattle?” Big Ed smiled.
“How could I do that?” he mocked. “You said yourself that you aren’t those Indians’ keeper. How could anyone blame you if the Indians ‘happen’ to raid Triple C cattle more than any other ranchers’ in the area?”
“Yeah.” Big Ed nodded
, his smile widening into a grin. “That’s right.”
When Lorna heard the clatter of the buggy wheels outside the cabin, she ran smoothing hands over her hair and walked quickly to the door. She glanced over her shoulder at the two boys napping on the short cots, then stepped outside.
The buggy had stopped, but Bull Giles still held the reins. Lady Crawford leaned forward in the rear seat when Lorna approached, and inquired, “Where can I find Benteen?”
“He’s up the hill.” Lorna indicated the house with a nod of her head.
“Thank you.” The woman sat back and waved a hand at Giles to order him to drive on.
The breath Lorna released came out in a troubled sigh. She turned and walked slowly back to the cabin door. As she paused on the threshold, her gaze strayed to the hill, where the black buggy stopped in front of the house. She saw Benteen come out and help Lady Crawford down. Then the two of them disappeared inside the house.
It wasn’t the first such visit Lady Crawford had made. She’d been to the ranch on two other occasions. Neither time had she visited with Lorna at all, not even briefly. Benteen had explained that he was undertaking a business venture with her, but avoided telling Lorna any details.
But it was more than being excluded from their business conversations that bothered Lorna. It was Benteen’s reluctance to discuss anything about Lady Crawford with her. Something was changing him. It seemed to have started that night he’d sat up drinking. He had become preoccupied lately, uncommunicative.
Sighing again, she turned and entered the cabin.
“The house is beginning to take shape quite nicely, isn’t it?” Elaine remarked as they walked from the entryway into what would be the study. All the interior walls were up, dividing the house into rooms, and the finish work was under way. “Maybe your wife will be happy once you move into this house.”
“What do you mean?” Benteen asked her sharply.
“It doesn’t matter.” She made a pretense of shrugging aside the thoughtless remark and let her fingers tighten on his arm. “That isn’t what I came to talk to you about anyway. When do you anticipate the cattle will be delivered to the government post in Canada?”
