“Mrs. Baylis likes him too. She’s been encouraging me to marry him for weeks.”
“How can you even think of marrying a cowboy. Don’t you remember what they did to your Aunt Sarah? And your cousin!”
“Uncle, can’t you see what you’re doing to yourself? For ten years you’ve blamed every cowboy you’ve met for Aunt Sarah and Grant’s death, and it’s eating the heart out of you. For your own sake, you’ve got to stop. They’re dead and nothing is going to bring them back.”
“It was cowboys who brought the tick that killed our stock, and it was cowboys who brought the fever that killed my Sarah and poor little Grant.”
“But it’s not fair to blame Cord for what happened years ago and hundreds of miles away.”
“Don’t you have any shame?” Ira raved. “You don’t care about anything as long as you get that smirking cowboy for yourself. Have you been seeing him on the sly?”
“It was the only way,” Eliza admitted, rising from her chair. “Would you have let him come here?”
“No!” Ira virtually screamed in her face. “And I’ll not have him here now. I’ll kill him if he sets one foot in my house.”
“This is my home too, and considering it’s my singing that paid for it, you ought to give some consideration to what I want.”
Ira stared at Eliza incredulously. She had been standing up to him more often lately, but she had never dared to throw in his face the fact that she was making the money which enabled him to live in comfort.
“You never used to talk to me like this,” he reproached her, genuinely puzzled. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I never used to think I was worth anything, that I could do anything important or had any opinions that mattered, but things are different now. I don’t enjoy singing in the saloon, but it has taught me I can do something no one else can. I’m a success. People come just to hear me. Teaching school proved I could do something on my own.”
“And where does your strutting cowboy come in?”
“He thinks I’m the most wonderful person in the world,” Eliza told him almost rapturously. “Do you know what that means? After nearly ten years of slaving without a word of thanks, someone wants to do things for me. Not because I can sing, or make money, or do anything else useful, just because I’m me. It’s the most marvelous feeling in the whole world.”
“I’ll kill the bastard,” Ira screamed.
“You won’t raise a hand against him,” Eliza returned fiercely. “In fact you’re going to stop saying anything against him, anything at all.”
“You can’t order me around. I’m not one of your students.”
I don’t mean to sound like I’m giving orders, but Cord is going to be my husband, and I’m not have my own uncle talking against him.”
“I’ll say what I want to anyone I like.”
“If you don’t stop, I’ll walk out that door and never come near this saloon again.”
“And where will you go?” demanded Ira, shaken but struggling desperately to keep control of Eliza.
“I’ll go back to the cabin if I have to, but I won’t stay here. Can’t you understand that I love Cord just like you loved Aunt Sarah?”
“How dare you profane your aunt’s memory,” Ira moaned, suddenly transformed from a petty tyrant to the tortured, sad little man he really was. “She was the most wonderful person in the world. She was much too good for me.”
“That’s how I feel about Cord, even if you can’t see it. Whenever you doubt it or get angry, just remember how you felt about Aunt Sarah. Then you’ll know what Cord means to me.”
They were interrupted by a knock at the door.
“It’s open,” Ira shouted. It was Croley who opened the door, but he was preceded into the room by a pretty brunette of impressive physical endowments and an easy, confident air.
“I wanted you to meet Miss O’Sullivan, our new dancer and singer. She just got in on the morning stage.”
“Looks a little long in the tooth to me,” Ira observed ill-naturedly. “I thought you were getting somebody young.”
“I couldn’t find anyone else with Miss O’Sullivan’s talents.”
“I’m Elizabeth Smallwood, Miss O’Sullivan,” Eliza said, deeply embarrassed by her uncle’s comment. “I hope your trip went smoothly. You must have had to get up awfully early.”
“I never went to bed, but I did doze on the train. My name’s Iris.”
“I hope you’ll call me Eliza. Everyone does.”
“She’s Belle Sage around here,” stated Ira, his dislike obvious. “You could do with a stage name yourself.”
“Iris has always suited me just fine.”
“We’ll decide that, miss.”
Iris’s slate blue eyes grew hard. “It’s Mrs. O’Sullivan, and I’ll thank you to remember that.”
“You hired a married woman? Are you crazy?”
“She’s a widow,” Croley said. “And she’s got a kid.”
“A little girl” said Iris. “Someone named Lucy lured her into the kitchen with a promise of hot chocolate.”
“That’s nearly as bad,” Ira fumed. “The boys don’t want a mother.”
“And they won’t get one,” snapped Iris. “But they won’t get a sister or a saint either. No offense, Miss Smallwood, but I don’t have your looks, and from what Mr. Blaine says about your voice, I can’t sing like you either, so it wouldn’t make any sense for me to try to ape you.”
“Don’t let Ira upset you” Croley said soothingly. “His niece has had all the attention up until now, and he’s not happy about her having to share it.”
“I wouldn’t mind sharing,” said Ira. “It’s a helluva lot better than giving it up altogether. Yeah, you ought to stare. You don’t know what the foolish girl has done.”
“Uncle Ira-”
“Don’t you Uncle me, not after getting yourself engaged to Stedman.”
“What!” exclaimed Croley. “Do you mean he asked you to marry him?”
“What else would I be talking about? Of all the people, she had to go and pick that murderer.”
Iris looked from one person to another in bewilderment.
“Nothing’s been proved against him,” said Croley, badly jolted, “so I don’t think it’s exactly fair to go accusing him, especially when the sheriff swears he was in Cheyenne.”
“The sheriff is blind, or willing to look the other way.”
“Uncle Ira! How can you possibly accuse the sheriff of covering up for Cord?”
“Nothing is beyond Stedman. It seems he can do anything he wants and get away with it. I promise you, I’ll bring him to his knees if it’s the last thing I do.”
Ira’s behavior had embarrassed Eliza badly, but at those words all thoughts of apologizing vanished. For the first time in her life, Eliza was coldly angry.
“Mr. Blaine, I have explained to my uncle that I intend to marry Mr. Stedman and that I will not have him slandered. If he doesn’t stop, I’ll leave the Sweetwater and sing for every other saloon in town if I have to, but I will not have my husband called a murderer.”
“I forbid it,” shouted Ira.
“And I’ll hold a drawing every night to see who gets to dance with me.”
“You might as well close up this place now,” declared Iris. “And I’d better see about catching the first stage back to Douglas. I’m not about to tie myself up to a ship that’s going to sink and take me with it.”
“Nobody needs to catch any stages,” said Croley, forcing a smile on his lips and making his voice sound relaxed and easy. “If Miss Smallwood wants to marry Cord Stedman, then we must respect her wishes.”
“I’ll be damned if I will,” said Ira.
“We mart,” reiterated Croley, with so much meaning in the glance he threw Ira that he swallowed the hot response hovering on his lips. “I realize there’re a few difficulties, but they can be ironed out when everyone is calmer. I brought Miss O’Sullivan up hoping Eliza would offer her some bre
akfast.”
“I haven’t had time for a bite,” Iris explained, apologetically, “and I’m about to starve.”
“She can have mine,” Ira rasped, and stormed out of the room.
“I’d be happy to have you join me,” said Eliza, again embarrassed for her uncle. “If Mr. Blaine will tell Lucy—”
“I already have,” Croley said, some of the tightness gone from his voice.
“Would you mind talking to Uncle?” Eliza asked. “I’m afraid of what he might do.”
“I’ll go after him. Trouble for you is trouble for the saloon. Now you two get acquainted. You’re going to be working together a lot in the next few days.”
Iris picked up her coffee and followed Eliza into the sitting room. “So when my husband died, I decided to go back on the road. Mr. Blaine’s offer was the best one I got. I always did want to see the West.”
“You’ve certainly had an exciting life,” Eliza said. “I’ve never even seen a circus.”
“Believe me, it’s much more fun to watch one than live in it. I was always after my husband to give it up. But tell me something about yourself. You must be all excited about getting married.”
“It makes it very hard to be happy when your uncle loathes the man you’re going to marry.”
“Fathers and uncles always want us to marry someone else. My father wasn’t too pleased about my choice either, but he came around.”
“I’m afraid Uncle Ira won’t.”
“Surely you’re marrying a nice, upstanding young man. He’s bound to grow to like him when he sees how happy you are.”
“I hope so. Cord really is wonderful.”
“Is he a cowboy?”
“That’s what he calls himself, but he owns his own ranch and is going to be very important in Buffalo some day. Maybe even the whole state. He’s very smart, and works very hard.”
“Is he rich? I mean, having a ranch makes him sound rich to me.”
“I don’t really know, but he probably is.”
Iris set down her cup and stood up. “I’m sure you’ll be very happy, have loads of children, and your uncle will become dotingly fond of all of you.” She smiled a little mechanically. “Now I have to get settled into my room. Mr. Blaine insisted I stay here for now. It’s certainly convenient, but I hope to get a place of my own before long. Oh, I’m told there’s a Sam somebody who works here too.”
“Sam Haughton. He sings and tells stories. I don’t think they’re very nice, but the men seem to like them.”
“Something else I can’t do,” Iris said philosophically. “Mr. Blaine has told me you’ve made this a classy joint. I’m supposed to give the customers a little more spice, but I’m still to take my lead from you.”
Eliza blushed slightly. “I’m sure you’ll be very successful. You’re very pretty, and much more robust than I am.”
Iris broke into a shout of laughter. “Yeah, I’m a big girl. The boys always did seem to like me, but I’d trade it all to look like you. Listen to me, dearie. You’re exactly what every man, cowboy or rancher, wants and never thinks to find. Your Cord will take you and your cranky uncle and think himself lucky.”
Chapter 21
“Eliza, wake up. They’ve put your uncle in jail for stealing Mr. Cord’s cows.” Lucy shook Eliza again, but the girl only stared at her with vacant eyes. “Oh, do wake up. Mr. Blaine is nowhere to be found, your uncle is calling the sheriff every terrible name he can think of, and Cord just stands there looking like a great stone carving.”
“Cord?” Eliza repeated sleepily, sitting up in bed. “What about Cord?”
“He’s hauled your uncle to jail for rustling.”
“What!” Eliza gasped, wide awake now.
“I said Mr. Cord has caught your uncle trying to take one of his cows, and he’s had the sheriff lock him up.”
“B-but that’s impossible,” stammered Eliza, certain she was still dreaming. “There must be some mistake.”
“Maybe,” said Lucy, handing Eliza her robe, “but your uncle is in jail and you’re going to have to get up and go down there. Nobody can make head or tail out of anything he says.”
Eliza’s mind refused to accept Lucy’s words. It couldn’t be happening. Her uncle wasn’t a thief! She threw on her clothes as quickly as she could, convinced everything would be straightened out by the time she reached the jail.
Iris stumbled in wearing a night cap and a voluminous flannel nightgown under a thick housecoat. “What on earth is going on? Why are you getting dressed at three in the morning?”
“Mr. Stedman has had her uncle locked up for stealing one of his cows. The man’s raving like a lunatic, and Miss Eliza’s got to go down there and make some sense out of all that gibberish.” Lucy’s story was beginning to grow with each telling.
“Give me a minute and I’ll come with you.”
“Maybe you’d better not,” Eliza said apologetically. “Uncle says some pretty terrible things when he’s mad. When he calms down, he’s angry at everyone who heard him.”
“I never got out of bed,” said Iris with a crooked grin. “Be sure to let me know if I can do anything to help.”
“Where is Mr. Blaine? Can’t he talk to Uncle?”
“Nobody has seen him,” Lucy related. “Though I’d like to know what he’s doing out of his bed in the middle of the night.”
“Don’t worry about that now. Just send him to the sheriff’s office the minute you find him. I’m sure it’s all a ridiculous misunderstanding, but I need Mr. Blaine. Uncle Ira never listens to anything I say.”
The scene that greeted Eliza’s eyes outstripped even her worse fears. The Buffalo city jail had to serve the whole of Johnson County, but it was a rudimentary affair with no separate area for the cells, and Ira was locked up only a few feet from the sheriff’s desk. He had an unobstructed view of his hated protagonist and was screaming profanities at Cord and ignoring the sheriff’s orders to be quiet so he could get down what Mr. Stedman was saying. Cord, accompanied by Royce and Sturgis, was answering the sheriff’s questions with a steely calm that immediately made Eliza uneasy.
Still followed by Lucy, Eliza came to a halt in the middle of the room, uncertain of whom to turn to first, the sheriff, Ira, or her beloved Cord.
“Sorry to get you out of bed like this, Miss Smallwood,” Sheriff Joe Hooker said, rising from his chair, “but I’m mighty glad you came.” He was a likeable young man, only on the job a little over six months, but he was too young and inexperienced to understand the crosscurrents threatening the peace of Johnson County.
“Why has my uncle been arrested?” Eliza asked, turning to Cord. Sheriff Hooker hurriedly set out a chair which Eliza ignored.
“Mr. Stedman and his boys say they caught your uncle trying to make off with one of his steers. Your uncle says it isn’t so, but I can’t make head or tail of what he says he was intending to do with that beef.”
“If he says he’s innocent then why is he locked up?”
“Mainly ‘cause I can’t keep him from jumping Mr. Stedman any other way.”
Is that any reason to put an innocent man in jail?” demanded Eliza.
“Yes, miss, it is. It’s my responsibility to protect the citizens as well as their property, and your uncle is not willing to leave Mr. Stedman alone.”
“My uncle would never steal from anybody,” Eliza insisted, turning quickly filling eyes to Cord’s hard gaze. “There must be some other explanation.”
“He may not steal from anybody else, ma’am, but he sure had his rope on Matador meat this time,” Sturgis stated, nettled.
“I saw him myself, Eliza. There was no mistaking what he was doing.” There was an implacable quality in Cord’s voice Eliza had never heard before. She stared at him, unable to understand the change.
“There must be another answer,” Eliza maintained. “Please, Uncle Ira, tell them what you were really doing.”
“I’m not saying a word to that sneaking son of a bitch,” he
r uncle blared. “And the sheriff is nothing but his pawn.”
“I’ve told you that kind of talk will do you no good, Mr. Smallwood.”
“And I’ve told you I’ve got nothing to say until my partner shows up. He’s more interested in my welfare than my own flesh and blood.”
“That’s not true,” said Eliza “Does that mean you’re not going to marry that villain?”
“No, but-”
“Then you’re wasting your breath talking to me. You might as well desecrate your Aunt Sarah’s grave as marry that devil.” Ira turned his back on Eliza and sat down on the bunk in the cell area.
“He’s still angry about our engagement,” Eliza said to Cord. “He’ll get over it if you just give him some more time.”
“I’ll give him all the time in the world to learn to tolerate me”—Cord was still cold and unbending—“but that doesn’t include letting him help himself to my cattle.”
“But he wasn’t stealing your cattle.”
“Then maybe you can tell me why he had his rope on a steer and was leading him off my land?”
“I don’t know, but I know he wasn’t trying to steal it. He’s never taken anything in his whole life that wasn’t his.”
“All I’m asking for is an explanation. I asked for one when I caught him and the sheriff’s been after the same thing for the last hour, but he won’t talk.”
“I’ll never talk to you, you Judas.”
“Uncle, don’t,” begged Eliza. “Please,” she said, turning once more to Cord, “let him go, for my sake. He won’t bother your herds again. I promise.”
“Don’t you go making promises in my name because you can’t deliver them,” said Ira.
But Eliza’s attention was on Cord, tensely awaiting his answer. This wasn’t the same man who had held her in his arms, igniting fires of love in her mind and body, loving her until she felt disembodied. Something had happened to Cord; she didn’t know this man.
“I can’t drop the charges until I have an explanation I can believe,” Cord said with wintry severity, “To let him go now would be an open invitation to every rustler in the county to help himself.”
“We should have given him a warning instead of wasting time coming here,” muttered Royce, who found the whole proceeding tedious and unproductive.
Wicked Wyoming Nights Page 21
