Badlands Legend

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  “I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

  She whirled, hand to her throat, then relaxed when she saw him. “I’m too excited to sleep. I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed this town until I came back here.”

  He stepped up beside her and draped an arm around her shoulders. “I guess this means you aren’t sorry you came back?”

  “Oh, Yale.” With a sigh she rested her head on his shoulder. “I want this.”

  “This chicken house?”

  She laughed. “This.” She lifted her hands. “A simple cabin and some land, with room for my boys to grow and become all they can be. I feel…” She took in a deep breath. “I feel so many emotions twisting inside. I’m happy to be back here, but so angry at Wyatt for losing all my family had worked for.”

  “Shh.” He turned her toward him and pressed a finger to her lips. “You have to let the past go, Cara. Otherwise that anger will just fester inside you until it eats at your soul. I ought to know. I’m a master at chasing after ghosts that are better left alone. But I think I’m finally learning how to give it up.”

  She looked up at him. “I hope you’re not ready to give up everything from your past.”

  He grinned. “Why, sweet little Cara. Are you trying to seduce me again?”

  Her smile was back. “It seems a shame to waste all this moonlight.”

  “You’re right.” He gathered her into his arms and kissed her until they were both sighing.

  Then he caught her hand and started leading her toward a grassy hill. “Good thing you brought a blanket. I think we can put that to good use.”

  “Have another of Billie’s biscuits.” Gabe passed the basket to his brother, grinning at the amount of food they’d managed to put away for breakfast. “I swear they’re lighter than air.”

  Yale shook his head. “I couldn’t eat another thing. But I can see now why Jack Slade doesn’t want to lose you, Billie. That’s just about the finest cooking I’ve ever tasted.”

  “You said the same thing about Ma’s cooking,” Cody said over a mouthful of eggs.

  “You’re right. I did.” Yale chuckled. “It’s just that I’ve spent half my life eating in saloons. I’d forgotten how good home-cooking can be.”

  Gabe pressed his wife’s hand as she topped off his coffee. “Then maybe it’s time you gave up the saloon life, so you could enjoy this sort of treatment every day.”

  “I’ve been thinking that very thing.”

  At his words Cara sloshed coffee over the rim of her cup and was forced to set it down very carefully. When she looked up, she saw Yale watching her.

  “Sheriff.” Lars Swensen popped his head in the door after a perfunctory tap. Seeing the others he whisked his hat from his head. “Sorry to bother you, but you’re needed at the jail.”

  “Trouble?” Gabe asked.

  “Yes, sir. Not here in town. But trouble all the same.”

  Gabe pushed away from the table and gave his wife a kiss before picking up his gunbelt and rifle and following his deputy out the door.

  “Well.” Billie watched them go with her hands on her hips.

  “Aren’t you curious about the trouble?” Cara asked.

  She shook her head, sending red hair dancing. “With Lars, it’s always something big. Then Gabe comes home to tell me it was a run-away bull, or a drunken cowboy over at the Red Dog who shot himself in the foot.”

  The others were laughing as she began rushing around, filling a basket with eggs, searching for her shawl. “I’d better run.”

  “Where are you off to?” Yale asked.

  “I have eggs to deliver to Inga Swensen. And I left a list of supplies I’ll need for today’s supper with her. Inga said she’d have them ready this morning.”

  Yale pushed away from the table and got to his feet. “The boys and I have nothing to do today. Why don’t you let us deliver the eggs and pick up your supplies? That way you can stay and visit a while longer with Cara.”

  She skidded to a halt. “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “Billie, it’s the least we can do to return all your fine hospitality.” Yale turned to Cody and Seth. “What do you say, boys? Want to lend a hand?”

  Two heads bobbed in unison.

  “You see?” Yale took the basket from Billie’s hands and surprised even himself by bending to the chair to brush a kiss over Cara’s cheek.

  She blushed clear to her toes before asking, “What was that for?”

  He gave her one of those killer smiles that had her heart tumbling in her chest. “For home cooking. And…other things.”

  He started out the door, with the boys eagerly trailing.

  As he walked along the street, Yale took his time, pausing to admire how much the town had grown since he’d last seen it. It would seem, if the territory actually became a state, that Misery was poised to make its mark on the prairie.

  He’d often thought it a dreary, dusty spot on the landscape. And when he’d left, he told himself he’d never look back. But now he was seeing it through new eyes.

  Cara’s eyes, he thought with a smile.

  Maybe it wasn’t the town that had changed. Maybe it was him. He’d been changed by love.

  Love. Even as the word took shape in his mind, he felt a moment of panic. He’d been footloose for so long now, he wasn’t sure he could ever settle down. Could he turn his back on the thrill of the game? Could he walk past a saloon and ignore the itch to step inside? Could he walk the straight, narrow road his brother walked? Or would he always feel as though something was missing from his life?

  “Look, Seth.” Cody stood, nose pressed to the window of Swensen’s, pointing at the jar of peppermint sticks in a big jar on the counter.

  Yale stopped in his tracks, watching the look on their faces. When he looked at these two boys, he felt a fierce protectiveness toward them.

  Wasn’t that also love? He didn’t think he wanted to probe these feelings too deeply.

  He was whistling as he walked into the store and set the basket of eggs on the counter. As he did, half a dozen women turned to gape in openmouthed surprise.

  Inga Swensen stepped behind the counter. “Yale Conover. So it’s true. You’re back.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Women young and old suddenly seemed engrossed in the supplies stocked closest to the counter. They crowded around, hoping it wasn’t too obvious how eager they were to watch and listen.

  “And you’re delivering eggs these days, Yale?”

  He grinned, setting hearts aflutter. “My sister-in-law Billie sent these. And said I’m to pick up her supplies.”

  “I have everything ready.” Inga studied the two little boys. “Could these possibly be Cara’s sons?”

  “That’s right. This is Cody and this is Seth.”

  The older woman leaned over the counter. “I saw you both the last time your ma was in Misery, to take care of her folks. You were just little tykes then.” She straightened. “There’s Billie’s supplies, Yale. Is that all you wanted?”

  “Not all.” He reached into his pocket and removed a coin, which he set on the counter. “We’d like three peppermint sticks, please.”

  Inga laughed as she held out the jar. “Yale Conover. You just never change, do you?”

  “No, ma’am.” He waited until Cody and Seth reached in, then he tucked his own candy stick in his pocket before hefting the sacks as easily as if they weighed nothing at all.

  “You tell Billie I’ll have her egg money here whenever she wants it.”

  “I’ll tell her.”

  As he left the store Cody and Seth seemed puzzled by the reaction of the women, who were seen sighing and fanning themselves, before huddling around the counter to giggle and whisper. But when they looked at Yale, he seemed completely oblivious to all that had just transpired.

  Chapter Twenty

  With the boys trailing in his wake, Yale carried the sacks across the dusty road and around to the back door of the Red Dog Saloon. Inside Bill
ie was busily kneading bread dough.

  For a few moments Yale leaned against the doorway and watched in fascination as she pounded the dough, turned it and pounded again and again. She was a whirlwind of activity. All the while she beat on the dough, her red hair danced on her shoulders and her face, dusted with flour, wore the sheen of exertion.

  “Don’t you ever stop?”

  At his words she looked up, then laughed. “That’s what Gabe always asks me. I guess I just love my work.”

  Yale indicated the sacks. “Where would you like these?”

  “Right over here.” She wiped a cloth over a low wooden shelf, and Yale noted that the entire kitchen was spotless.

  He deposited the sacks, then took the peppermint stick from his pocket and broke it in two, offering half to her.

  She dimpled at the sweetness of the gesture. “Thanks.”

  They walked out on the back stoop, to escape the heat of the kitchen and sat on the top step, licking their candy.

  “Inga said she has your egg money over at her place whenever you want it.”

  Billie nodded. “I appreciate it, Yale.”

  “Gabe says you make a good living here.”

  “I do. And I intend to make a whole lot more. I’m hoping for some hogs next year. Right now I have to trade eggs and honey for hams from Jeb Simmons, a hog rancher outside of town. I’d rather raise my own. And then I need some cows, for milk. And some…”

  Laughing, Yale held up a hand. “You’d better stop. You’re making me dizzy.”

  She smiled shyly. “You sound just like Gabe.” She ducked her head. “He’s so happy to see you.”

  Yale licked the last of the candy from his fingers. “That’s nice to know, Billie. To tell the truth, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to seeing him. We’ve never hit it off too well.”

  “You’re wrong, Yale. You’re family.” She got to her feet, shaking down her skirts. “Nothing can ever change that. No matter how many disagreements you and Gabe have.” She looked up and smiled. “Thanks for the candy. I always did have a sweet tooth. Now I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll see you at home later.”

  She brushed a kiss over his cheek, then hurried inside.

  Yale beckoned to the boys. “I think we’d better start back now. Along the way we’d better stop at a horse trough and get rid of this sticky mess, or your ma will skin all of us.”

  They were still laughing when they paused outside the hitching post of the Red Dog to dip their hands in the trough. As they did, voices from inside the saloon drifted through the swinging doors.

  A man’s voice, loud and boasting, silenced the others. “There’s nobody good enough in these parts to beat me, gentlemen. So you might as well just empty your pockets right now and hand over your money. Old Buck Reedy came to town today to win.”

  Yale straightened, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Last night he’d tried to comfort Cara as she’d talked about the loss of everything she’d held dear. And now, look who was being dropped into his arms like a gift from the gods? There was no denying it. He was being given the chance to avenge Cara’s loss, with the very one who’d taken it all away from her.

  “What’s wrong, Yale?” Cody asked.

  “Nothing. You boys run on home.”

  “What about you?” Cody saw the way Yale was staring at the doors to the Red Dog. His heart gave a funny little hitch. “Aren’t you coming with us?”

  Yale shook his head. “I’ve got something I have to do.” He took out a clean handkerchief and dried his hands, then returned it to his pocket, leaving the little points dangling from his breast pocket like a dandy.

  When he walked up the steps of the saloon he looked different somehow. There was a swagger to his walk. A cocky tilt to his head. And though the self-assured grin was still on his lips, there was a steely look in his eyes that was almost frightening to see.

  Alarmed, Cody caught hold of Seth’s hand and started running.

  When Seth held back Cody tugged on his arm. “Come on.” The older boy was close to tears. “We’ve got to get back to Ma. Right now.”

  Jack Slade deftly shuffled the cards and dealt out the hands. Like Buck Reedy and the cowboys seated around the poker table, Jack couldn’t take his eyes off Yale, looking as fine as if he were sitting in a pleasure palace in San Francisco.

  Jack had figured that he’d never again get the chance to watch a true legend in action. But here he was, Yale-by-god-Conover, sitting in the Red Dog, barely glancing at his cards before tossing another gold coin in the center of the table.

  Jack had known Yale when he’d been nothing more than a rough-and-tumble kid, dressed in shabby clothes, breaking hearts while breaking every rule in the book. Something of that boy remained in the man seated in their midst. But Yale had come back to Misery changed in many ways. The black suit and hat were obviously new and expensive. As were the shiny black boots. It was apparent that gambling had been very good to Yale Conover. And there was, beneath the expansive smile and air of success, a barely-concealed edge of danger.

  Jack Slade had the sense that this was much more than a casual game of poker to Yale Conover.

  “Whiskey?” Roscoe Timmons walked up to the table with a tray of glasses.

  “Thanks.” Yale accepted a tumbler and set it beside his hand.

  Buck Reedy helped himself to a tumbler and drained it, then took a second and sipped it more slowly while the cowboys around the table added to the pot.

  Buck discarded. “I’ll take three cards.”

  He picked up the ones Jack dealt him and couldn’t hide the gleam of triumph in his eyes.

  “How about you, Yale?” Jack sat poised, ready to deal.

  “I’ll take three.” He discarded.

  Jack dealt three cards, then moved on, dealing to the cowboys, before he glanced around the table. “All right, gentlemen. Let’s see them.”

  Buck Reedy dropped his pair of aces and chuckled. As he reached toward the pile of money Jack called sharply, “Don’t get greedy, Buck. We haven’t seen the other hands yet.”

  “You think anybody can beat my aces?” He grinned foolishly. And though it wasn’t yet noon, the whiskey was already beginning to take effect.

  Without a word Yale set down his hand, showing three deuces.

  Reedy scowled as the money was shoved toward Yale. “I’d like to see you act this cool if we were playing for some real money.”

  Yale barely flicked him a glance. “What do you consider real money?”

  “How about a hundred dollars a hand?”

  Yale looked bored. “I thought you were talking about high stakes.”

  Reedy choked in embarrassment when he saw the cowboys grinning. “What do you consider high stakes, Conover?”

  Yale tapped a finger on the table, as though considering. “You still own that ranch outside of town. The old McKinnon ranch?”

  Buck’s eyes narrowed. “Of course I do. Why?”

  “What do you think it’s worth?”

  Buck began mentally calculating. The cabin had burned down more than a year ago. The barn, such as it was, was still standing. As for the land, the fields hadn’t been plowed in years and had gone to weed. In this part of the Territory, there was an abundance of land. He considered it worth little more than a couple of hundred dollars, but there was no reason to make that fact known. “Five hundred dollars.”

  Yale nodded. “All right.” He reached into his pocket and peeled off the money, while the men around the table gasped. Passing it over to Jack Slade, he said, “My five hundred against the deed to the old McKinnon ranch.” He turned to Buck Reedy. “Agreed?”

  Reedy had never dreamed it would be this easy. He’d anticipated at least a little dickering before the price was set. He rubbed his hands together. “I don’t have the deed with me.”

  “No need.” Yale glanced at Slade and the others. “Just sign a paper saying you’re putting up the land against my money. These men can witness it.”

 
; A paper was produced, and Jack Slade listed the terms of the agreement before passing it to Yale to approve. With a nod of his head Yale passed it to Buck Reedy, who signed with a flourish before passing it around the table for the rest of the signatures.

  Reedy signaled for another whiskey, then turned to the saloon owner. “Hurry up, Slade, and shuffle those cards. I can’t wait to count my money.”

  Jack Slade dealt out the cards, trying to read their faces as the two men studied their hands. Buck looked pleased with his cards. As for Yale, it was impossible to tell. He seemed to wear the same mask no matter what the hand.

  “Would either of you gentlemen care for a card?” Slade asked.

  Reedy discarded before saying, “Two cards.”

  He picked up the cards and placed them in his hand, then positively beamed.

  Slade turned to Yale. “Cards?”

  Yale shook his head. “I’ll play these.”

  Reedy looked annoyed. “You don’t want any cards?”

  Yale didn’t bother to reply. He merely shot him a challenging look.

  Buck lay down his hand and the cowboys around the table were scratching their heads in amazement. “Three kings. It doesn’t get much better than this. Now let’s see you beat that, Conover.”

  Yale hesitated, and everyone leaned forward, watching intently. Without expression he set down his cards, face up.

  Jack Slade spoke almost reverently. “Now doesn’t that beat all. A full house. Queens and aces.”

  Savoring the expression on Buck Reedy’s face when he realized he’d been beaten, Yale finally allowed a small smile. “The ladies have always been good to me.”

  “Why you…” Reedy leapt to his feet and reached for his pistol.

  Before he could draw, Roscoe Timmons was right behind him, restraining him in a bearhug that had his arms pinned at his sides.

  “You have two choices, Buck,” Jack Slade said softly. “Get on your horse and head home, or spend the day over in the jail. We all know it won’t be the first time.”

  Reedy swore. “You owe me another chance, Conover.”

  Yale gave a slight nod of his head. “Whenever you say, Buck. Would you like to play for the deed to your own ranch now?”