Hill Country Cattleman

by Laurie Kingery

  “Perhaps the next time we ride out, I can take you to see my ranch. It’s going to be the showplace of the county before I’m through, if not the entire state. I’d value your opinion, Miss Violet, since you come from a castle, yourself.”

  She didn’t bother to explain that while the ruins of Greyshaw Castle were on the estate grounds, for three centuries the earls of Greyshaw and their families lived in what had begun as the manor house. “Perhaps that will be possible,” she said, careful to keep her tone noncommittal. She found his frequent attempts to put them on an equal footing socially rather wearying. He was so different from Raleigh, who was aware of the great gulf between them, but also of his own worth. Perhaps Drew merely lacked self-esteem.

  “Yessiree, all my home needs is the perfect wife to grace it and my life will be complete,” he said, eyeing her avidly.

  Was he expecting her to volunteer for the job? she wondered, annoyed. “Well, I wish you luck on your quest,” she said, looking him in the eye and keeping her tone cool. “Pity I won’t be here to see your final dream fulfilled.”

  It was a veiled rejection, and she knew he’d guessed as much when she saw his lips thin to a tight line.

  They rode in silence for a few minutes, and then he said, “So what do you do to occupy your time here, Miss Violet?”

  He must have realized he’d been too boastful and pushy, she thought, feeling she might have been too harsh in her set-down. In a kinder tone, she said, “Oh, when I’m not playing with my nephew, or learning to sew and cook under my sister-in-law’s tutelage, I’m writing a novel.”

  She expected the raised eyebrow, but hadn’t expected the whistle of approval.

  “As intelligent as you are beautiful, Miss Violet,” he said. “Might I ask the subject of your novel?”

  She told him the basics of her plot, and why she had chosen to write about the West.

  “Miss Violet, I would count myself fortunate if I could assist you in any way in this,” he said, his eyes earnest.

  Pleased that Drew had stopped bragging, she didn’t tell him the Colliers’ Roost foreman had given her a lot of information already.

  “Well, that was part of the reason I looked forward to spending time in Texas,” she said, “so I could experience some of the elements of life on the frontier. Such as Indians, for example.” She explained that she hadn’t seen one, but that the preacher and his wife had spoken to her of their ordeal at the hands of the Comanches.

  He studied her for a few minutes, then snapped his fingers. The sudden action made his mount snort and crow hop a couple of times, but once Drew had him under control again, he said, “I know the very thing to help you. We’re holding a roundup next week, and branding a load of stock that I’ve recently purchased. You could come out and see the ranch house, then ride with me to the roundup. You could meet my cowhands and share their chuckwagon food. Humble fare, but what an experience, eh? You could bring your sister-in-law with you, so all would be right and proper according to your English standards.”

  Violet hesitated. While it did sound like an interesting event, chock-full of the sort of authentic detail she needed for her book, and he had even suggested bringing Milly along as a chaperone, she thought she probably shouldn’t encourage him by going. It sounded as if he might be trying to lure her into seeing herself as the mistress of the Allbright ranch.

  “I don’t know,” she murmured doubtfully. “Milly and Nick have a son, you know, and she’d have to bring him. He’s only a toddler, you see.” Perhaps if she made enough difficulties, she could discourage him.

  “That’s not a problem,” he assured her. “My housekeeper can watch the boy while we’re out at the roundup. She has a couple of br—that is, children—herself, so they could play together at the ranch house. Please say you’ll come.”

  “I—I’ll have to check with my sister-in-law,” she said, knowing she probably should just decline. Still, witnessing a branding would be an excellent opportunity to add realism to her story. No matter who was issuing the invitation, perhaps she shouldn’t pass up the opportunity....

  The rest of the ride passed without incident. Allbright was the perfect gentleman and engaging companion. Was it cynical of her to think he had little opportunity to be anything else with Bobby riding behind them?

  * * *

  “You look troubled, Violet,” Milly observed that night over supper when her sister-in-law merely picked at her food. “What’s wrong?”

  Violet felt Nick staring at her across the table, alerted by his wife’s concern.

  “Homesick, sister?” he asked, his eyes kind.

  “Yes. No! Oh, I don’t know what it is, Nick. Everything seems so complicated,” she said, gesturing with her fork. “I... Milly, could we talk after supper?” She turned to Nick. “I’m sorry, brother, I don’t mean to shut you out, but I think only another woman could understand.”

  He shrugged imperturbably. “It’s not a problem, Vi. I’ll ride herd on Nicky while you two have a good chat.”

  An hour later, the dishes done, Violet and Milly adjourned to the porch. Milly carried a basket of clothes by her rocking chair.

  “I hope you don’t mind if I mend clothes while we talk. I think better when my hands are busy,” Milly said, settling herself into her seat with a shirt of her son’s that had a tear in it. “What’s the problem?”

  “I hardly know where to start,” Violet murmured, staring out at the long shadow cast by the hill that loomed over the ranch. Should she tell Milly only her concerns about Drew, or should she pour out her heart about her feelings for Raleigh, too?

  “You’re not homesick, are you?” Milly asked again.

  Violet looked down at her empty lap. Perhaps it would be easier to talk if she were sewing on a button, or something of the sort. Did she long to return to England? Yes, but perhaps only because she would feel less uncertain there, less like a fish out of water. She would know how to go on, as they said.

  “Perhaps it might help get you started if I tell you that Raleigh came to see you today, right after you rode out with Mr. Allbright,” Milly said. “He wanted to tell you Cookie was recovering, but I think that was only a pretext.”

  Violet couldn’t stifle a gasp at this unexpected news. Raleigh had come to see her, only to hear she was with another man. She felt suddenly sick.

  “You...you like Raleigh, don’t you?” Milly asked quietly.

  Violet nodded, twisting a fold of skirt in her lap.

  “More than the earl back in England?”

  Violet stared out into the gathering dusk. “I must seem a very fickle sort of girl to you. I—I don’t know how I really feel about Gerald anymore. I know Edward was hoping distance might give me a chance to really consider what I was doing...and it has.”

  Some bird seeking its roost for the night flew past them overhead, and for a moment Violet tracked its flight. “But I’m only more confused. It’s still a while yet before I can expect any letters, but something in me, here—” she placed a hand over her heart “—doubts Gerald is pining away for me back in Sussex. As for Raleigh, though we haven’t spent much time together, he seems so...” Her voice trailed off and her hands spread wide as she searched for the right word. “Honest. Elemental. True. As life is here in Texas.”

  “I think Nick felt that way about Texas, too, when he came here.”

  “It’s certainly different from England—at least, from high society. I couldn’t say about the English country folk. But here, no one cares about titles, and order of precedence, and whether one’s gowns are made by Worth....”

  Milly tied off her thread and laid the garment back in the basket, then picked up a stocking that needed darning. “So you’re attracted to Raleigh, but—?”

  “But he was angry at me for jumping Lady that day I fell into the creek and got all wet. And I g
et the sense that he feels I’m very...oh, I don’t know...superficial in my religion, something of the sort.”

  “Superficial in your religion?” Milly echoed. “I don’t think of you that way, Violet. Such a girl might toy with Raleigh’s heart, see if she could entice him into falling in love with her, just for her amusement. You’re not that sort of person, so I can’t think you would be careless about faith, either.”

  Toy with Raleigh’s heart? Certainly not. Milly’s words soothed something in Violet’s soul and she gazed at her gratefully before going on. “At home church is just a matter of duty, of form, mostly. At least among the nobility. Like singing ‘God Save the Queen.’ It’s different with my brother Richard, of course—he seems that rare cleric who really believes what he preaches, and lives it. It’s like that here, with the people in your church. Raleigh’s tried to talk to me about it...but I’m afraid I’ve shied away from the subject. I do feel as if faith is becoming more important to me since I’ve been here, however. Reverend Gil’s sermons have really made me think.”

  “Raleigh had quite an experience during the trail drive. Maybe you should ask him about that,” Milly said.

  “If I get the chance, I will,” Violet murmured. “I thought he was angry with me. And then I was so happy to see him at the spinsters’ party, thinking he’d come to dance that last waltz with me. But he’d only come to summon the doctor, so I felt a fool. You said he came to see me today. I wonder... Oh, how I wish I hadn’t ridden out with Drew Allbright!”

  “You didn’t have an enjoyable time with Mr. Allbright?”

  Violet shrugged. “I did, I suppose. And if I hadn’t already met Raleigh, I might appreciate Drew Albright more. He seems quite charming, quite interested in me. He...he’s invited us—you and me—to his ranch.” She told Milly about Drew’s invitation to witness the roundup. “I told him about my writing, you see...really just to have something to talk about, but he thought it might be good for my book to see branding and so forth. And you’re to come as chaperone—if you’re willing, of course—so all is right and proper.”

  Milly shrugged. “I don’t see what could be wrong with that, even if you’re not interested in Mr. Allbright as more than a friend. I’ve been curious to see his ranch. Those who’ve seen it say it’s quite a place.”

  “Then we’ll go,” Violet said.

  “You could ask one of the hands to take an acceptance note to him.”

  So that was settled. “But what am I to do about Raleigh?” Violet asked, then felt a rush of despair. “Oh, what do I even want? Even if Raleigh asked me, Edward would forbid a match between us, and Nick would back him up, wouldn’t he? Brotherly solidarity, and all that?”

  Milly was thoughtful. “I think you might be very surprised. Nick chose Texas, didn’t he? And I know Edward at least well enough to know that, above all, he wants you to be happy.”

  Violet stared at her. “Assuming that’s true about Nick and Edward, am I to wait for Raleigh to call again?”

  Milly met her gaze. “You said you’ve been getting reacquainted with faith—why not pray about it?”

  Why not, indeed?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Raleigh patted the neck of the green-broke gelding he’d ridden out to the creek, then dismounted and let the horse drink, a reward for a good training session. He took his own drink from a canteen. The young gelding he’d named Pancho was coming along well, he thought. In a few weeks he’d start working him with cattle. Pancho was quick on his feet and could turn on a dime, so he’d be a fine addition to the remuda.

  The clink of shod hooves on rock alerted him to the approach of another rider, and he peered over the sorrel’s withers to see who it was.

  Not Violet, he saw with disappointment, but Bobby Gibson, one of the Brookfields’ younger hands, riding a rangy dun.

  Bobby waved from the other side of the fence. “Howdy, Raleigh,” he said. “Hot day, ain’t it?”

  Raleigh nodded. “Like all of ’em from May on through October, I reckon. Looks like you’ve been ridin’ a ways,” he said, nodding at the dun’s damp flanks.

  “Out to Mr. Allbright’s spread, takin’ a note from Miss Violet. Boy howdy, that is some fancy ranch house. You should see it, Raleigh.”

  Raleigh was instantly sorry he’d asked as acid singed his stomach. “You’re reduced to carrying love notes now, are you? Why didn’t Miss Violet sashay out there and speak to him herself?”

  Raleigh saw the younger cowboy’s ears redden. He hadn’t meant to speak so sourly, but he’d had a sod-pawing, horn-tossing mad going ever since he’d gone to the Brookfield ranch house to see Violet yesterday, only to find out she was out riding with the very gent whose attentions he’d thought he was rescuing her from the night before. Finding out that the Englishwoman was using the young cowboy to send messages just about tore it, as far as he was concerned.

  “It ain’t like that,” Bobby said sullenly. “Miss Violet don’t like that Allbright feller thataway.”

  Raleigh was feeling just broody enough to let himself be goaded. “Oh? What kinda way does she like him like, then, if she’s going out riding with him and sending little messages to him?” Women were nothing but troublemakers, he decided. What else would make him want to argue with this young pup who’d always been friendly to the point of hero worship of Raleigh ever since the trail drive?

  “They think I cain’t read, but I can,” Bobby boasted. “I went t’ school long enough t’ read an’ cipher a little. I snuck a peek at th’ note. Miss Vi’let, she was just acceptin’ an invite from him to the roundup and brandin’ that Allbright fellow’s havin’. She and Miss Milly are goin’ to the roundup, and Miss Violet’s only going t’ help her write her book, ’cause she’s never seen no brandin’ afore.”

  A likely story, Raleigh thought, but said only, “You know you shouldn’t be readin’ other people’s notes, Bobby.”

  “I figger it was fer a good cause,” Bobby insisted, his chin jutting forth pugnaciously. “Lookin’ out for Miss Violet’s welfare, that is. An’ I don’t think she likes him like you’re thinkin’, Raleigh. When she went out ridin’ with him yesterday, she made me ride along behind ’em so’s she wouldn’t be alone with him. I don’t think she trusts him anymore’n I do. There’s something right shifty-eyed about that feller.”

  He could agree with Bobby there. “Sorry I spoke crossly, Bobby,” he said. “You keep lookin’ out for Miss Violet, would you? I’d be much obliged. Miss Violet’s never seen a sidewinder where she comes from, so she’s not used to them.”

  “I shore will, Raleigh. You kin count on it.” Grinning again, Bobby reined his horse around and loped off toward the barn.

  Raleigh watched the boy leave. He felt better about himself for apologizing to Bobby, but was Violet Brookfield inexperienced, or was she one of these women who collected hearts like jewelry and wore an air of innocence like a cloak? She had a beau back home. She had to suspect he himself was sweet on her, and now this jumped-up fellow from San Antonio who was long on charm and had plenty of cash money was courting her, whether Allbright called it that or not.

  He just couldn’t decide what to do about Violet. He’d been through-and-through angry, hearing about the note and the invitation. Then, when Bobby told him Violet insisted on him riding along with Drew and her, Raleigh felt irritated at himself. Stubborn hope zinged through him like a shooting star, insisting that a woman bent on captivating a fellow didn’t do such a thing.

  But he didn’t want to be a fool and leave his heart out for her to trample on. When in doubt, it was best to do nothing, he thought. Wait and see. And pray.

  * * *

  “Miss Violet, did you ladies get enough to eat? Not too hot, are you?” Drew shouted, leaning over from the back of the one of black stallions. This one must be Castor, she thought—he had more of a Roman nose than the
one Drew had ridden the other day.

  Violet had to cup her ear to hear him over the bawling of cattle. She thought she’d never be cool again, despite the shade of the live oak trees overhead, or have her throat free of dust. The wind was blowing away from her and Milly, but the dust still seemed to get everywhere. She was glad she hadn’t worn anything fancy.

  “We’re fine, thanks to all this,” she shouted back, gesturing with the pearl-handled fan he’d set on her plate at the small table placed between her chair and Milly’s. He’d wanted them to be comfortable, yet still be able to see, so he’d set padded-leather chairs and the small table on the back of a flatbed wagon. They’d eaten barbecued beef and beans so spicy they’d stung her eyes, and plenty of iced tea to wash them down. Where Drew Allbright had found ice in Texas in the middle of July, she had no idea.

  “Getting any ideas for your novel, Miss Violet?” he bellowed, gesturing toward the scene before them, where cattle were being funneled from a corral through a wooden chute, to be branded one by one before being turned loose in a separate pen.

  She nodded. “Adding realistic details and getting them correct is always good,” she shouted back. “It’s called verisimilitude.” Goodness, why couldn’t they wait to talk afterward, when they’d left the smelly, noisy scene of the branding? She thought she’d never get the smell of singed hair out of her nose. That and the overly spicy food had kept her from eating more than a polite amount.

  These weren’t the rawboned longhorns she was used to seeing at her brother’s ranch and elsewhere in Texas, but a fatter, short-horned type of cattle more like the ones she was used to seeing at home. He’d proudly told her he’d had them sent from Kansas so as to improve the quality of the beef being shipped north. Then he’d ridden off to “help” his cowboys, which Violet suspected was mainly for show. Milly took advantage of his absence to inform Violet that this type of cattle usually didn’t thrive in the area due to the ornery Texas ticks the longhorns seemed immune to.