Seducing Susannah: The Bride Train
Page 3
* * *
Ross guided his horse around a group of denim-clad farmers gathered outside a saloon. If not for Val’s earlier warning, he wouldn’t have slowed down. As it was, he couldn’t miss what was said by one of the men. William McLaughlin always spoke loud enough for everyone to hear—him included. “Boys, we got to band together. Our land don’t rightfully belong to King Joy and his railroad. Join the Land League and fight back!”
The only thing “Blustering Bill” liked better than a crowd was a bottle of whiskey. The stout, sandy-haired squatter spent most of his time in saloons, bragging about his position with the settlers’ Land League and complaining about the railroad. Possibly his complaints had escalated into threats.
The previous year, riots had broken out after the government approved the railroad’s purchase of former Indian land, in spite of the fact that hundreds of settlers had already filed claims under Preemption. The backroom deal between Washington and the railroad didn’t sit well with Ross, but the president had assured him that it was in the best interests of the nation to promote railroad expansion. Last November, President Grant had put the region under martial law. The rioting had ceased, but not the ill feelings. Men like McLaughlin were like rubbing salt in a wound.
In a split-second decision, Ross reined in his horse and turned to face the group. Better to confront yellow dogs like “Blustering Bill” out in the open.
The men gathered watched Ross with narrowed eyes.
Yep, he was about as popular as a coyote in a chicken coop. His job was to see to it that a fair deal was struck between the settlers and the railroad—something he hadn’t realized was impossible before he’d agreed to accept the position. He was more fortunate than the former land agent, who’d been horse whipped and driven out of town. Ross had no intention of picking a fight, but if he didn’t challenge cowards like McLaughlin, these men wouldn’t respect him.
“The army will deal harshly with any men who engage in violence against the railroad, and if found guilty, your claims will be invalidated. Mr. McLaughlin knows this, yet he encourages you to break the law. He’s not acting in your best interests.”
“And you are?” McLaughlin sneered. “I’m encouragin’ these men to stand up for their rights, not to bow to rich men like you and your crooked boss.”
Ross didn’t take the bait. His wealth, or lack thereof, wasn’t the issue. “I heard you recruiting the men to fight.”
McLaughlin’s ruddy face darkened. He knew he could go to jail for inciting a riot. “A political fight is what I meant.”
Like hell that’s what he meant. The Land League posed as a political organization, and though there were members who did stick to politics, there were also a fair number of thugs.
“Then I’d be careful, if I were you, in my choice of words.”
The men in the crowd looked at each other, and the group began to break up.
Wise choice.
Ross reined his horse back to the road, riding past the men who were now walking away.
“Better watch your back…”
He couldn’t tell who’d spoken, or whether it was a threat or a warning. He’d have a word with Captain Goldman, either way.
It took him a half hour to reach the army encampment south of town, which served as a temporary home to the company assigned to keep peace in the region. Ross smelled the campfires before he saw the smoke wafting into a brilliant blue sky and the white canvas tents stretched out over the grassy prairie. Few soldiers were about at this time of the day, as most of the men would be out on patrol.
Riding past the corral, he spotted a sorrel gelding with a white mark on its face. The horse lifted its head over the fence with its ears perked forward. That was the captain’s horse, which meant the officer was around—a stroke of luck.
Ross dismounted and tied the reins to a hitching post in front of a tent, which had the flaps lifted to allow for a breeze to pass through. Goldman sat at a table, frowning as he penned what looked like a letter.
The captain stood to shake Ross’s hand. “Mr. Hardt, what brings you out here?”
“Thought I’d take a break from paperwork. Looks like you could use one too.”
“Yes, I could. Let’s take a walk.” The captain grabbed his hat. He was sharp enough to realize this wasn’t a casual visit. Neither of them had time for that.
Ross followed the officer to a place where a wide creek split into two branches. It reminded him of the forked Snake Creek on his family’s land. There, scrubby mesquite spread like wildfire, here, cottonwoods were abundant. Similar varieties of oak grew in both places. Back home, there were rolling hills where the cattle waded through fields of wildflowers in the spring.
His father’s letter must’ve triggered this homesickness he’d managed to suppress for five years. Try as he might, he couldn’t fool himself forever. He would never rid his heart of the place he called home, so it only made sense to go back and see if he could work things out with his father. They’d both had five years to cool off.
The captain stopped beneath a leafy oak. “What’s wrong?” he asked bluntly.
Goldman didn’t waste words or time, which was an admirable trait in Ross’s opinion.
“Maybe nothing, but rumors are brewing and I’m notifying you because it’s standard procedure. Someone I trust told me he’d heard about a possible attack along the rail line.”
The captain smoothed his hand over a sand-colored mustache framing his mouth, taking in the information and mulling it over before answering. Ross reacted more instinctively, yet he appreciated Goldman’s methodical approach to problems.
“Can you share your sources?”
“I’d rather not.” Ross wasn’t getting Val involved as that would pose a danger to his friend should other settlers find out who provided the army with information. “He doesn’t know any more than what he told me. On the way here, I heard McLaughlin recruiting men for the Land League. He was stirring them up, telling them to fight back. Same old refrain.”
“You think he’s planning something?”
“He’s a peck of trouble, that’s for sure. But I’m not inclined to believe Blustering Bill could plan—much less lead—an effective attack. That would require him to stop painting his tonsils for more than an hour.”
“Drunk or not, if he’s making threats, we can arrest him.”
Ross considered the option, but then rejected it. “Keep an eye on him, but don’t arrest him unless you catch him breaking the law. The Land League will raise all kinds of hell if you lock up one of their leaders. Don’t want to kick the hornet’s nest.”
Goldman frowned at the answer. “If you don’t want him arrested, and you don’t have more details on this supposed attack, what do you expect us to do?”
“Assign more men along the line. I’d say the likeliest spot would be between here and Baxter Springs.” Ross understood the captain’s glum expression. He hadn’t given the army much to go on. “Look on the bright side, it’ll keep your men busy.”
“They weren’t lacking things to do.”
Because their commanding officer kept them occupied. Goldman had done a good job of managing the troops under his command, which had recently earned him a promotion. Soldiers with time on their hands, and a little money in their pockets, could be trouble for a town filled with too many saloons and not enough whores to go around. Goldman kept the soldiers away from town unless they were there for a reason. As a result, confrontations had been few. He’d be an asset to the community if he decided to leave army life behind.
“Have you given any thought to settling down? I know of a couple women who need husbands.” Ross knew of three, but he’d already decided to pursue one of them.
“I’m an Army man. A wife is the last thing I need right now.” Goldman folded his hands behind his back and braced his feet as if preparing to defend his stance against marriage.
Until recently, Ross had been likeminded, after being betrayed by a woman whose pictur
e he’d carried next to his heart for four long years. He had gotten over his fascination with army life faster than he had the pain of her betrayal, after spending too much time in squalid camps, in between engaging ragtag rebels. For the first six months after he’d enlisted, he’d gotten sick every time he shot a man, fearing he’d killed a friend or kinfolk. The churning in his stomach had eventually lessened, but he still carried the weight of all those souls. Some men took longer to reach their limit. “You do have a nice setup out here. I can see why you wouldn’t want to give it up.”
“That sounds like a man used to a soft bed.” Goldman rubbed his hand over his chin. “Come to think of it, if you know of a woman who’d be interested in working as a laundress, we could use one of those. No whores, they cause too much trouble.”
“The railroad didn’t ship in whores. These are respectable ladies, and they’re under contract to pick a husband from among the settlers.”
“One of them might marry a soldier. I’m sure the railroad could work something out.”
Ross was past caring who the remaining two women married, as long as he wasn’t responsible for them anymore. “I’ll pass along your offer.”
“Maybe you ought to marry. Have a passel of kids.”
“Doesn’t sound half bad,” Ross mused. After being a wanderer and alone for so long, he was ready to find a wife and settle down. Susannah appealed to him more than any woman he’d met since purging a deceitful one from his thoughts. She had a rare combination of gentility and fortitude and could handle the demands of being a cattleman’s wife.
She had shocked the heck out of him when she’d taken his handkerchief and wiped the ink off his chin. More than that, she’d shocked herself. Her control had slipped for a moment, and he’d caught a glimpse of the passionate woman she kept carefully hidden. The way her hands trembled and the darting glances were only more evidence she wasn’t immune to him. He just had to figure out how to get past her defenses. Seduce her, if it came to that. It was an opportunity he’d relish.
Goldman’s regard turned speculative. “You’re considering marriage?”
“More than considering.” When making a decision, Ross didn’t drag his feet, and once he’d fixed his sight on a goal, he took action. “I’ll firm up my plans when I’m finished with my work here.”
“Your work should be finished soon. The Katy’s tracklayers crossed the border last night.”
Ross couldn’t hide his shock. “You’re pulling my donkey’s tail. That’s impossible! Those Irishmen were miles behind.”
“Apparently, they caught up. Last night, your construction workers took after their crews with sledgehammers and shovels. My men had to break it up.”
Goldman wasn’t joking.
Ross took a moment to let the bad news sink in. If the competing line had crossed the border to Indian Territory first, the race was over—along with the hopes of the railroad that employed him. He supposed he should feel something other than relief.
He wasn’t a big believer in omens, but he didn’t discount the possibility that one’s fate occasionally lined up in a specific way for a specific reason. This seemed to be a clear sign that he’d made the right decision.
“Appreciate you letting me know.” He should’ve had a telegram from his superiors, though he realized he hadn’t yet checked, so there might be one waiting for him.
He could imagine the chaos that would erupt should the news be true. Land values would plummet, those who’d paid top dollar would be furious, and the railroad would be under pressure to reduce the price of the remaining land. His job, while it lasted, would be made more difficult. In comparison, currying favor with Susannah seemed easy.
* * *
Susannah linked arms with her dear friend Rose as they ascended the steps to The Lagonda House. Rose’s unusual height would’ve been a disadvantage if she hadn’t found a husband several inches taller. When the statuesque couple was together, they made a fetching sight strolling down the sidewalk side by side.
“Was it only six weeks ago that we arrived? So much has happened since that first day,” Susannah lamented. She and the other women had come out here with high hopes of finding suitable husbands—and had been met at the station by a mob of drunken men.
“For certain, two miracles,” Rose replied in her delightful Irish brogue. “Me gettin’ married to Val, and ye acceptin’ that job offer from Mr. Hardt.”
“I’d say receiving his offer was the bigger miracle.”
“If ye think that, ye’re not openin’ yer eyes, Susannah. I’m not a bit surprised he offered ye the job.”
“My eyes are wide open, and I’m astonished.” She had stopped trying to fathom Ross Hardt’s intentions; one might as well attempt to measure the depth of the ocean. But she refused to believe, as Rose obviously did, that his offer implied he was interested in her. If so, he’d done a poor job showing it.
Susannah opened the door, and she and her friend entered the front hall. Rose didn’t stop at the mirror mounted on a hall tree to attend to her hair. Fiery strands the wind had pulled loose weren’t bothering her, and the stray wisps didn’t detract from her loveliness. What changes had been wrought since she’d arrived in a patched dress that hung on her like a sack. Today’s ensemble—a gown with alternating stripes of pale and dark green and a stylish bonnet with silk ribbons—complemented her unique hair and complexion. Val had to be behind it. Rose didn’t have a fashionable bone in her body, though she more than made up for it with her sunny disposition and generous spirit.
Susannah untied the frayed ribbon beneath her chin. Her bonnet had seen better days and was sadly out of fashion, as was her dress, but this was her best outfit. She could make new dresses if she had the funds to purchase fabric, which she didn’t. No use pouting about it. Besides, she had to pinch pennies to purchase Danny a new pair of shoes. He was growing so fast she could hardly keep up.
“What I mean to say is Mr. Hardt took notice of yer good qualities.” Rose continued the silly argument while Susannah gazed in the mirror, rearranging curls crushed by the bonnet.
“My good qualities?” She shook her head, still astonished that the man she’d slapped had offered her a position. She must practice better self-control if she wanted her job to last more than a day. “Did Mr. Hardt notice my good qualities before or after he tried to foist me off on Val?
Rose grinned. “After, I’d say. I heard him tell Val ye had a powerful good aim.”
“Oh, you! You’re spinning yarns. He found nothing about that incident inspiring or amusing.” Susannah’s stomach clenched at the memory: her stinging palm, the rock-hard set of his jaw, and the reddened imprint of her fingers on his cheek. Dreadful.
“He admitted he deserved it,” Rose added, without smiling.
“I’ve never heard him admit he was wrong. Not to me, anyway.” Susannah re-secured a loose hairpin, finding it hard to look her friend in the eye. She should’ve apologized, and they both knew it. “I’ll admit I tried Mr. Hardt’s patience—which isn’t extensive by the way. I’m very glad you stepped in and claimed your Mr. Valentine.”
“Aye. I’m glad of it too…and so is Val,” Rose added softly.
“He should be.”
The aristocratic Englishman had almost lost his Irish Rose before he’d gained the sense to realize his good fortune. His sweet-tempered wife had forgiven him for breaking her heart, and the couple seemed to have found a deep and abiding love, something Rose deserved.
Susannah stopped fussing with her hair and lowered her hands. The sad woman looking back at her didn’t deserve another chance at love. Some mistakes couldn’t be erased or forgiven. She regretted many things, but one thing she did not regret—keeping her son. Danny was her greatest joy.
At the moment, however, her joy was sitting upstairs, dreading what would happen when his mother returned. She thought back to the confrontation with her seven-year-old son right before she’d left to go challenge Mr. Hardt’s latest ultimatum.
He knitted his light brown eyebrows into a glare. Tears streaked through the dirt on his freckled face. “Why did you yell out the window at me? I didn’t do nuthin’ wrong.”
She regretted embarrassing him in front of his friends, but it couldn’t be helped if he insisted on disobeying. “What you mean to say is, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“That’s what I said.”
“No, it isn’t, and I won’t allow you to talk like a guttersnipe, or disobey. You were following your friends up that dirt mound again, and I’ve told you it’s dangerous. Climbing it might dislodge the loose soil and cause an avalanche and you could be buried.”
He looked away. “You treat me like baby.”
“Only when you insist on acting like one.” She noticed his mud-caked shoes. “After you remove your shoes, please go to your room and read quietly. We’ll have a talk when I return.”
He yanked his arm from her grasp and tromped up the stairs, leaving a trail of dirt. She would’ve been furious if her heart didn’t ache so badly. But failure to be firm would only incite more rebellion.
“That behavior will earn you more time in your room.”
Tearing her gaze away from the mirror, Susannah noticed Rose watching her thoughtfully.
“Ye look sad. What be troublin’ ye?”
Susannah’s throat grew tight and her eyes began to sting. She blinked rapidly to stop the flow of tears before they started. “There aren’t many children around for Danny to play with, and the ones he has met run wild. He behaved badly this morning and I sent him upstairs. I know I can’t let him get away with disrespectful behavior, but I…I hate punishing him.”