Badlands Legend

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  Gabe offered a handshake. “I’m Gabriel Conover. This is my brother Yale.” He pointed to the back of the wagon. “And that’s our little sister, Kitty.”

  At the sight of the little girl the old man touched a gnarled hand to his wide-brimmed hat in a courtly gesture. Then he turned back to Gabe, sensing that he was the spokesman for the family. “Where’s your folks, son?”

  “Our ma’s buried along the trail. We’re heading for the Badlands to join up with our pa.” He looked at the old man hopefully. “You wouldn’t happen to know him, would you? Clay Conover.”

  The old man shook his head. “Sorry, son. Never heard of him.” He glanced at the weary little party before pointing toward a wood shack in the distance. “That’s my place. Why don’t you stop awhile and I’ll make you some vittles.”

  At that the two younger ones perked up considerably.

  Gabe held back. “We can’t pay you, Mr. Smiler.”

  Yale gave him a sharp nudge with his elbow, hoping to silence him.

  Aaron Smiler saw the range of emotions in these three. He could read simple honesty in the eyes of the oldest, and disappointment in the little girl’s eyes. The middle brother was harder to read, but he sensed a simmering annoyance in Yale’s eyes. This, he thought, was a boy impatient to become a man.

  “Well, now,” Aaron said simply. “Maybe you could lend a hand with some of the chores around here. I’m getting on in years, and I can’t do all the things I used to.”

  Yale looked around at the hard land, wondering why anyone would want to settle in such a place. But Gabe was already agreeing, and nudging him to do the same.

  Yale gave a reluctant nod of his head.

  “All right then.” The old man led the way. “Maybe, if you decide you like it here, you’ll make Misery your home for awhile. Just until you’re ready to resume your search for your pa, that is.”

  While Gabe and Kitty ran ahead, Yale took his time, looking over the old man and his land. He didn’t much like the idea of living by Aaron Smiler’s rules, but for now it was a chance to stop and gather his strength. Then, as soon as he was old enough and strong enough, he would resume his search for his father. Then, he thought with a grin, he’d live his life as he pleased.

  Chapter One

  Dakota Territory, 1887

  Yale Conover picked up his money and smiled at the gamblers who sat around the poker table, glowering at him. He’d been on a winning streak that appeared to have no end in sight. Some might call him lucky. But those who’d stayed around for the entire forty-eight-hour poker marathon knew it took more than luck to earn his reputation as one of the shrewdest gamblers in the Dakotas.

  He looked the part of a charming rogue. Expensive black suit, soft white shirt, wide-brimmed black hat and boots polished to a high shine. While his opponents cast furtive glances at one another each time the cards were dealt, he merely smiled and drew on his cigar, looking as relaxed as a man after a good meal. And though he always ordered a glass of whiskey, he never drank it. It was just one of his props. Now he indulged himself, draining it in one long swallow.

  “Thank you, gentlemen. It’s been an…interesting and profitable experience.”

  He shoved away from the poker table and moved with catlike grace across the room. When he stepped through the swinging doors of the saloon into blinding morning sunlight, he scrubbed a hand over the rough stubble of beard and blinked. For a moment he was tossed back into another time. Another place.

  He’d been sixteen, and amazed that he’d spent the entire night in a small-stakes poker game at the Red Dog Saloon in the little town of Misery, in the Dakota Territory. As always, the lack of sleep caused him no concern. He’d always been comfortable with the night.

  He touched the money folded in his pocket before giving a lazy smile. It had been worth every minute, just to see the look on Buck Reedy’s face when he’d set down his hand showing three queens, beating Buck’s pair of aces. Yale’s smile grew. He considered the ladies his lucky cards.

  He crossed the dusty patch of road the residents of Misery called their main street and walked into Swensen’s Dry Goods.

  Inga Swensen looked up from the counter. “You’re up and about early, Yale. Olaf and Lars are out back right now loading Aaron’s supplies into the wagon.”

  Yale smiled, already planning how he would spend his bounty. After all, wasn’t that what money was for? “I’ll be adding a few things to Aaron’s list, Mrs. Swensen.”

  Knowing his sister’s sweet tooth he picked up a jar of honey. Then he added a pair of decent boots for Gabe, who’d been wearing the same pair for more than a year now. He paused to add a couple of cigars for Aaron. Thinking better of it, he took one more for himself. Sitting in the Red Dog with all the gamblers had given him an appetite for smoking. He knew Aaron and Gabe would disapprove. But he’d just save it for a time when he was alone with the herd.

  When Inga Swensen tallied the purchases, he peeled off a couple of bills. As she was handing him his change she said, “If you’d like, you can ride back to Aaron’s place with Lars. He’ll be leaving within the hour.”

  Yale was about to agree when he caught sight of Cara McKinnon just walking in the door. She had the face of an angel, all smooth, creamy skin and big honey eyes, set off by a halo of ebony curls that just begged to be touched.

  His heart gave one hard bounce before he managed to compose himself. “No thanks. I’m not ready to leave town just yet.”

  Inga walked away to wait on Cara’s mother, and Yale followed the young girl to the back of the store, where she stopped to admire a display of fancy hair ornaments. She seemed mesmerized by a comb decorated with pale pink stones that glinted in the light.

  “You like that, Cara?”

  She whirled, then blushed when she caught sight of him. She seemed to always have that same reaction whenever she found herself close to Yale Conover. He was taller than the other boys his age. Taller even than her own father. His body was already sculpted with muscle from his years spent working for Aaron Smiler and the other ranchers nearby. Every girl in Misery, from ten to twenty, thought he was just about the most handsome boy around. But though many were attracted, in truth most were a little afraid of him. There was an air of danger about Yale. An edgy sense that he would climb any mountain on a dare, leap any chasm, or break any rule that stood in the way of what he wanted.

  And he’d made it plain for some time now that he wanted Cara. What frightened her even more was that she felt the same way. She wanted him. Desperately. Even though she wasn’t at all certain just what to do about these strange feelings he caused.

  To hide the color she knew was on her cheeks, she turned back, pretending to study the comb. “It’s pretty. And my favorite color, too. Mrs. Swensen told my ma she just got these in a shipment from St. Louis. Can you imagine?”

  “You ever been to St. Louis, Cara?”

  “No.” She shook her head, sending midnight curls dancing down her back.

  Behind her, Yale couldn’t help reaching out to feel. Her hair was as soft as a newborn calf’s downy hide. He rubbed a strand between his thumb and finger.

  At his touch, heat spiraled through Cara’s veins and curled deliciously along her spine. She glanced over her shoulder. “I’ve never been anywhere but here in Misery. Have you been anywhere else, Yale?”

  “Sure. I’ve even been across the Badlands.”

  “You have? When?”

  He shrugged, uncomfortable talking about that time in his life. “When I was nine. That’s when we came to stay with Aaron.”

  “My pa said you and your brother and sister are orphans.”

  His tone hardened. “We’re not orphans.” He hated that word. It made him feel that people would pity him. That was the last thing he wanted. Especially from Cara McKinnon. “We’ve got a pa.”

  “You do? Where is he?”

  Yale lifted a shoulder. “We haven’t found him yet. But we will.” To change the subject he picked up the
comb. “Why don’t you see how it looks on you?”

  She seemed shocked at the suggestion. “I couldn’t do that.”

  “Why not?” Seeing an excuse to touch her again he settled the comb into a strand of her hair, then lifted her chin, allowing his fingers to linger on the soft flesh of her throat.

  He stepped back, studying her intently.

  Now her cheeks were blazing. To cover her embarrassment she turned and picked up a looking glass. What she saw startled her. Her cheeks were so pink, and her eyes so wide, she looked different somehow. Older. Prettier. And the jeweled comb tucked into her dark curls was just about the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

  “Oh.” The sigh escaped before she could stop herself. “I’ve never worn anything so elegant.”

  He stepped closer, bending so that she could see his face beside hers in the looking glass. “It isn’t the comb, Cara.” His breath was warm against her cheek, and his voice, already as deep as a man’s, seemed to wrap itself around her heart. “It’s you. You’re so beautiful you take my breath away.”

  “Yale.” She set down the mirror with a clatter, then reached up to remove the comb from her hair. When she turned, he was standing so close her body brushed his.

  She started to step back, only to find the wooden shelf digging into her waist. She lifted her chin. “You shouldn’t say such a thing.”

  “Why not? It’s the truth.”

  She knew her face was flaming, and there was no place to hide. “But it’s bold. Papa says you’re too bold.”

  “Maybe I am.” He was close enough to smell her. She smelled so sweet. Like a field of wildflowers. Her clothes smelled of sunshine. He’d seen that very gown flapping on the McKinnon clothesline just yesterday. He’d spotted a filmy chemise, as well, and had wondered at the time how Cara would look wearing only that. The thought had his blood heating, his heart speeding up.

  He touched a hand to her arm. Just a touch, but he felt the way she jerked back before lowering her gaze.

  “I want to kiss you, Cara.”

  Her head came up sharply. “No, Yale. Ma might see us.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Is that the only reason you’re saying no?”

  She seemed about to deny it, until she looked into those dark, laughing eyes. Without meaning to, her lips curved into a smile. “Yes.”

  “You mean, if we were alone, you’d let me kiss you?”

  Before she could respond, a woman’s voice shouted, “Cara. Your pa’s here with the wagon. Let’s go, girl.”

  “I’m…coming, Ma.”

  As she started away Yale reached out and caught her hand, holding her still.

  His voice sounded urgent. “Tell me, Cara. Would you? If we were alone?”

  She swallowed, then looked down at their linked fingers. His hand was so big. So workworn. And so strong. Yet he was holding her as carefully as if she were made of spun glass.

  She gave just the slightest nod of her head before yanking her hand free and racing toward the front of the store.

  When she was gone Yale stayed where he was, watching the flutter of her skirt as she followed her mother out the door.

  Afterward it took several long minutes before his heart settled back to its natural rhythm. He knew there were some in this town who thought he was still a boy. But he knew in his heart he was already a man. With a man’s powerful needs.

  That very day he went to the hollow tree where he kept his stash and counted it out. Over five hundred dollars. And that was after settling Aaron’s bill at Swensen’s, and buying grain for next spring, and paying for the bull Aaron had been eyeing for the better part of a year.

  Aaron often scolded him for being too generous. But that was just Yale’s nature. He liked knowing he was paying his own way, so that he didn’t have to feel like he was taking from Aaron without giving something back. Besides, he could see how much Aaron appreciated his gifts.

  It was the same with his little sister. He loved seeing Kitty’s eyes grow all warm and happy when he surprised her with something special.

  Even straight-arrow Gabe hadn’t been able to find fault when he’d presented him with a new parka and rifle last Christmas.

  Though his family resented his gambling, they were willing to enjoy the fruits. For Yale, it wasn’t the money. It was the thrill of winning. He couldn’t explain it to the others. But he simply loved living on the edge.

  Like my pa.

  He frowned, and brushed aside the thought, wanting nothing to mar his happiness. Tonight he was going to show Parker McKinnon how much money he’d saved, before asking for his daughter’s hand in marriage. Then he and Cara McKinnon would start a life together.

  Together.

  He thought that was just about the best word ever. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Cara. He’d give up his wild ways. The gambling, the smoking, the occasional taste of whiskey. He’d settle down. Buy some land and build her a home. And together they would fill it with children. He’d be the best husband, the best father in the world. There would never be a night when he wouldn’t be there with his family, looking out for them.

  Oh, he might still drop by the Red Dog from time to time. Just to teach the ranchers who thought of themselves as gamblers a lesson in humility. He was grinning as he started toward the cabin he shared with Gabe and Kitty and Aaron Smiler.

  He paused to study it with a critical eye. He intended to build one twice as big for Cara. One with a fine big cookstove. And a separate bedroom, so he and Cara could slip away after dinner and lie in each other’s arms. The thought had him whistling a little tune as he slipped in the door and started washing up.

  If Gabe and Kitty and old Aaron noticed his air of expectancy, they didn’t let on. Over a supper of leathery beef and burned biscuits, they chatted about the day. Aaron was scolding Kitty about not keeping the cabin clean, and for refusing to learn to cook anything but beef and biscuits. She was reminding him that she’d spent as many hours in the field as he and Gabe, and she figured somebody else ought to help with the womanly chores, before staring pointedly at Yale.

  He’d merely grinned, too happy to accept her invitation to spar. Though it was one of his favorite activities, tonight was different.

  As soon as he could, he slipped away and helped himself to Aaron’s plow horse, pulling himself onto the mare’s bare back and digging his hands into her mane. He didn’t need to ask permission. Aaron never went anywhere at night. Besides, he’d be back before he was missed. He smiled in the darkness. Oh yes. He’d be back. And he’d surprise his family with the big announcement of his pending marriage.

  As he made his way to the McKinnon ranch, he thought about the money in his pocket. He’d have to use some of it to buy himself a decent saddle horse. It wouldn’t be right for a family man to be seen riding an old swaybacked nag. And some proper clothes, he thought. After all, he and Cara would be expected to attend Sunday services, whenever the visiting preacher came to town.

  He and Cara. His smile grew. From the time he’d been old enough to notice girls, it had always been pretty little Cara McKinnon. He couldn’t imagine his life without her.

  He slipped from the mare’s back and stood a moment, staring at the flickering lantern light coming from the McKinnon cabin. Then he tucked the paper-clad present into his pocket and strode to the door.

  As he knocked, he heard the sound of laughter suddenly cease. A moment later the door was thrown open and Parker McKinnon stood framed in the doorway.

  He was a big man. Strong as a bull from his years wrangling on his sprawling ranch. There were some who said he ruled his hired hands with an iron fist. But when it came to his wife and daughter, he was a very different man, clearly doting on them as he squired them into town from time to time like a proud peacock.

  Yale stepped into the spill of light and extended his hand. “’Evening, Mr. McKinnon.”

  Parker McKinnon’s eyes narrowed. “Something you want, Yale?”

  “Yes, sir. I
’ve come to see Cara.”

  The older man glanced over his shoulder and could see his daughter leap up and start toward the door. Instead of moving aside he remained where he was, keeping himself between her and this brash young man. “It’s already past supper. I won’t have her going out in the dark.”

  Yale gave one of his easy smiles. “I don’t mind coming inside.”

  Parker McKinnon seemed about to refuse when his wife called, “Invite whoever it is in out of the night, Parker.”

  He stepped aside, allowing Yale to walk past him.

  The room, with its fancy rug and fine, sturdy furniture became a blur when Yale caught sight of Cara. Her pleasure at seeing him was there in her eyes, wide with surprise, and in her lips, curved into the sweetest smile.

  “You look…” He wished he had the words to describe what she meant to him. But all he could manage was, “…really pretty tonight, Cara.”

  She blushed and glanced over at her mother.

  Remembering his manners, Yale reached up, yanking the wide-brimmed hat from his head as he smiled at her mother, seated across the room. “’Evening, ma’am.”

  Like her husband, Evelyn McKinnon’s smile faded at the sight of the young man everyone in town considered bold and just a little bit dangerous. “Yale. What brings you here?”

  “I came to speak to Mr. McKinnon.” He turned to the older man and for the first time felt his courage slip a notch. He could almost feel the hostility coming in waves from Cara’s father. “I came here to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

  Cara clapped a hand to her mouth, but not before issuing a quick little squeal of delight. Then, seeing her father’s dark look, she stared hard at the floor.

  “What sort of nonsense is this?” Parker McKinnon’s eyes were hard as flint. “What gives you the right to ask such a thing?”

  “I know you think we’re both too young. But I have feelings for your daughter, Mr. McKinnon. And have for years. And I have reason to believe that she feels the same way about me.”