Belle also noticed that the baby looked the image of Cassie. Belle frowned, wondering how a woman managed such a thing.
Libby came out of the kitchen with her pot.
“I’m just dropping Cass and Susannah off.” Red took the baby from Wade and hugged her till she giggled and grabbed at his nose.
“Papa.” Susannah squealed and squirmed, and Belle couldn’t take her eyes off the little girl surrounded by love. She’d done her best by her girls, but she’d never been able to provide them with a father’s love.
“Bye-bye, Suzie.” Red settled the baby on Cassie’s lap. “I’ve got work to do. Libby, we’ll haul your supplies over as soon as we can. Wade’s going to help.”
“Thanks, Red. I’ll leave the door open. I planned on abandoning the place and having coffee with Cassie and Muriel and Leota over at Muriel’s.”
“Seth told us Muriel’s out doctoring one of Leota’s young’uns.” Cassie ran her hand over her baby’s curls.
Libby gasped. “Is it serious?”
“I think the little boy is running a fever from a cold. Leota hadn’t slept all night, so Muriel went to give her a chance to rest.” Cassie bounced her little girl on her knee. “They’re going to try and get over here before Red comes back from his chores.”
Belle looked to be on the verge of getting pulled into a hen party. She hadn’t done such a thing in her adult life. Of course, with four daughters, her whole life was something of a hen party. But they were a hardworking flock.
Just as she was ready to stand up and walk out, Libby poured coffee and slipped a piece of cake in front of Belle. She knew this dessert wasn’t for anyone but Libby’s women friends—it was too pretty, with crumbled brown sugar and speckles of sweet-smelling cinnamon.
“That’s perfect then.” Libby nodded, clearly glad her party was going to grow.
Ruefully, Belle wondered what it would feel like to be welcomed like that. Libby was polite to her, but no friendlier than she’d been with Silas.
Red looked at Belle a long time, a serious expression on his face. “You had your baby, then? Everyone’s okay?”
Belle nodded. “We named her Elizabeth. We call her Betsy.” Anthony had insisted they name the baby Caterina, of all outlandish names. To keep him happy, they’d tried to call the tyke Caterina, or more often The Baby, when Anthony was within earshot. She and the girls privately called the child Betsy, and since Anthony had been gone more than home, that was pretty much all the time.
Figuring Anthony wasn’t long for the world, considering the foolish way he conducted his life, they bided their time and watched their tongues, and now that the man had faced his inevitable death, they were free to call Betsy by her real name all the time.
“Glad to hear it. You were too far out to send to town for Muriel. Cassie, Wade, and I worried some.”
Belle’s eyes shifted to Wade’s. “You’re…living at Red’s place?”
Wade nodded. “When I’m around. I’ve been doing some scouting for the army, some trapping. Hired on to a couple of cattle drives. I quit working on my dad’s ranch. Got sick of living under his thumb.” Wade’s calm, clear eyes brightened. “Red and Cassie have helped me learn more about God. I’m a believer now.”
Libby patted Wade on the arm. “It’s been a pleasure having you attend our church. Your pa was in here kicking up a fuss about you living out at the Dawsons’.”
Wade shrugged and smiled. “My pa’s good at that.”
He seemed to be completely at ease with his father’s wrath, neither afraid nor angry. Belle had spent most of her married life being one or the other or both.
Belle lived far enough from everyone not to have come up against Mort Sawyer and his legendary temper, but she’d met the man a time or two. He expected everyone to stand aside or be crushed under his boot. Now she realized she had a skilled hand standing right in front of her.
“You’re not hunting work, are you?” Belle felt foolish to hire on the son of the area’s more powerful ranchers and offer him a dollar a day and campfire meals.
Wade seemed to focus on her for the first time. “Doing what?”
“I’m taking my cattle to market. I could use more hands.”
Wade rubbed his thumb over his chin as if considering. “I’ve got a run to make first, promised to deliver some supplies to a line shack for Linscott. When are you heading out?”
“First light.”
“Tomorrow?” Wade asked.
Belle nodded.
“I’ll be a few days, but tell me your trail. I can catch up.”
Belle would have told anyone who asked that she’d rather do this drive alone than let Wade Sawyer with his coyote eyes help her. But he’d said he was a Christian. More than that—because a man’s word didn’t mean much to Belle—he looked calm and settled. Much like Silas Harden.
She sighed. She didn’t have the luxury of being picky. At least Wade, with his vast holdings, even if he’d walked away from them for now, wouldn’t want to marry her to gain Tanner Ranch.
“Fine, we’re taking the high trail out of the north side of my ranch.”
Wade flinched. “Tough passage. You won’t be hard to find. There’s not a way off that trail once you start it.”
Belle nodded. “I’d welcome the help.”
Wade and Red left, jangling the bell behind them.
Belle found herself pulled into talk of babies and husbands and making a home. Th ree things Belle knew a lot about. And she’d tried to avoid all three with no success.
“So how old is your baby, Belle? I haven’t seen …” Cassie faltered. “Did you have a boy or a girl?”
“A girl, thank goodness.”
Cassie’s eyes sharpened, and she held her squirming daughter. “Didn’t you want a son?”
Obviously itching to get her hands on the tyke, Libby relieved Cassie of the little girl.
Belle snorted. “I haven’t had much luck with men. I’d probably raise ’em up to be as worthless as their pas.”
“Pas?” Libby asked. “More than one?”
“Yep, Anthony was my third husband. Uh…is my third husband.”
“Was?” Libby plunked down on the bench next to Cassie. “What happened? Did Anthony die, too?”
Belle felt her neck start to heat. She had no talent for lying. She could skip a subject well enough and not feel the need to blurt out her every thought. But pure, straight-from-the-shoulder lies just didn’t sit on her tongue nor her conscience. “I don’t want to talk about Anthony.”
Libby leaned closer and whispered, “You can tell us, Belle. I knew Anthony. It was only a matter of time until he turned up his toes.”
Belle rubbed the back of her neck. “I don’t want anyone knowing he’s dead, okay?”
“Of course you’re not ready.” Cassie’s eyes shone with compassion. “If he just died, you’re still grieving.”
“Grieving?” Belle snorted in a way that reminded her of her horse and shook her head. “Not hardly. I just don’t want the no-accounts around here to know I’m widowed. They’ll be out there pestering me to marry up with them. I’d probably finally just marry one to keep the others away.” Belle glared at both women. “And I don’t want another husband. If you breathe a word, it’ll all be ruined.”
Libby nodded.
“Why don’t you want a husband, Belle?” Cassie’s huge eyes were as warm and brown as her coffee.
“I just have a knack for picking a poor lot. It’s something wrong with me. I know that. But I can’t seem to get it right.” Belle didn’t like admitting that, but it was her only hope for keeping her secret. “So, I’m quitting.”
“Quitting the ranch?” Cassie asked, pure innocence.
Belle should have taken her home and toughened her up, no matter that she was already married. “No!” Instead, Belle had stepped aside and let Red have her, and now look at the little woman, wide-eyed, innocent, sweet, cheerful. Not a brain in her head.
“Quitting men.”
Belle hadn’t meant to shout, but the idea of giving up her ranch startled a yell out of her. “Three times a widow is enough. Now promise me you won’t say a word.”
Cassie nodded solemnly.
“I’ll keep your secret, Belle. But word will get out soon enough,” Libby predicted.
“If I can get through this cattle drive then get snowed in for the winter, I’ll have a long stretch of peace and quiet. I’ll spend my time whipping up a backbone to turn men away.” Belle stood, sorry she’d stayed this long. Hoping these women could keep a secret. “I don’t have time for jawing. I’ve got to buy supplies, pick up the hand I hired, and get back to my young’uns. Thanks for the coffee, Lib.” Belle tossed a coin onto the table and left before they could ask any more personal questions.
She stalked out of the diner, spurs clinking, the bell over the door tinkling, and her ears ringing from the gossiping she knew the women would do about her. It served her right. She should have brought hardtack and biscuits instead of being so weak as to eat her meal in the diner.
She headed for the general store, determined to hurry Seth up and get out of Divide even if it meant packing her horses herself.
“Sawyer, why haven’t you hit the trail yet?” Tom Linscott was already snarling as he rode up to the general store on his thoroughbred black stallion and dismounted.
There’d been plenty in and around Divide who believed Wade had changed, but some still had their doubts. The difference was Linscott took the time to do it right.
“I’ve just come from Bates’.” Wade jerked his thumb at the general store he’d just exited. “Belle Tanner rode in with a long order, and Seth’s gotta finish that up first.”
“Well, I want you on the trail today.” Linscott wrapped his reins around the hitching post in front of the general store. His black stallion snorted and fought with the rope and tried to take a bite out of Tom’s shoulder, but Linscott dodged; he’d reinforced all the hitching posts in Divide long ago, for this very reason. The stallion was as cranky as his owner.
Wade looked straight into Linscott’s cold blue eyes and went on as always, being the best he could be and not worrying about anyone else. Linscott had let him do some work here lately. But even that was the tall Swede rubbing in his contempt. It was a big improvement over the days Wade hadn’t been able to keep from goading Linscott until Wade ended up bleeding, sprawled on his backside in the dirt. What Tom felt or believed wasn’t Wade’s problem. He had enough of his own. “I’ll be moving as soon as Seth gets time.”
“Then I want you back here. I’ve got some more work, if you’re willing.” Linscott said it like he was sure Wade wouldn’t be willing.
Smiling, enjoying the moment, Wade said, “Belle’s driving a herd to Helena, and I signed on with her. Once I’m back from the drive, I’ll stop out to the ranch. But it’ll be a month or more.”
“She’s taking a herd to Helena this late in the year?”
“So she said.”
Linscott settled his gloved hand on top of his Stetson and adjusted it so it rode low over his eyes. “Who’s she finding to work for her? If she’s askin’ you, she must be scraping the bottom of the barrel.”
Wade knew better than to even clench a fist. He was a believer now. A man of faith. Getting into a fistfight on Main Street wasn’t part of the way he conducted himself. “Lucky for me she is. I need the work.”
With a snort that probably charmed the black stallion, Linscott showed clearly that by not defending himself, Wade had just proved he was a weakling.
That didn’t upset Wade much either. Much. He had so many weaknesses he couldn’t count ’em all. That’s why he needed God. Trouble was everyone needed God. Linscott included. And since the man didn’t believe himself one bit weak, he’d be hard pressed to ever figure it out. That reminded Wade of his father—a man who thought he didn’t need anything and had never admitted to a weakness in his life.
“Just get the supplies out to that line shack.” Linscott stripped his gloves off his hands and tucked them in the pocket of his fringed buckskin coat. My men’re running out of food by now.” Linscott brushed past Wade and stomped into the store.
The horse snorted, speaking Linscott’s language.
Wade stared at the beautiful beast for a few long seconds. “What do you think, boy? You like takin’ orders from that grouch?”
The thoroughbred’s midnight black eyes flashed, almost like an answer, and Wade knew the horse didn’t take orders from anyone. He lived on his own terms, and he’d judged Tom Linscott to be worthy, or the horse would have stomped the man to death by now.
It occurred to Wade that the horse had the same temperament as Wade’s father. Then Wade mentally apologized to the stallion.
CHAPTER 4
Belle conducted her business, doing half of Seth’s work for him to move things along. Then she headed over to the saloon where Silas would be sleeping above stairs.
Belle strode into the Golden Butte, a place two of her husbands—one a drunk, the other a cheat—had taught her to hate. Two flouncy-dressed women sat playing poker with a couple of no-accounts. She had no idea how many women worked here, but since there was no sign of Silas down here, he might have been telling the truth about wanting to sleep.
“I’m heading out, Harden!” she hollered up the stairs. “You awake?”
Silas was only a few seconds coming out. He must have been sleeping with his boots on.
“What are you doing in here?” Silas clumped down the steps, scowling at her. No woman followed after him. Belle didn’t care, but she noticed. “This is no place for a respectable woman.” He glanced at the scantily clad females. “No offense.”
One of them raised her glass. The other crossed her legs and hooked her arm over the back of her chair. “None taken, cowboy.”
“I’m in here to get you. How’d you think I was supposed to get you without coming in?” Belle supposed her behavior was shocking. She didn’t care much, but she could see he did. She took a long look at the two women and was tempted to take them with her, get them away from these men, teach them to work, to grow up, to have some shame.
He clapped his hat on his head. “You should have sent someone up for me.”
“I reckon you’re right.” She didn’t respond beyond that. Instead, she gave up on the women, turned on her heels, and led the way out of the saloon. She had her string of pack horses lined up out front.
Silas had a buckskin standing at the hitching post. He swung up, and the feisty little horse perked up its head like it was rested and rarin’ to be on the move.
The buckskin had the look of a mustang that’d run wild for a time, and Belle knew the sure-footed mare would make the treacherous cattle drive with ease. The horse also looked well fed, and it had no ugly scars where a cruel man might work his mount with a whip or spurs. It raised Belle’s opinion of Silas. She did a quick check of the ropes tying her four heavily laden horses to her roan and tested that her supplies were well secured.
Silas rode up beside her. “Did you find any more drovers?”
“Nope. Well one, maybe, who might come along later.” It grated on Belle to think she might have to settle for help from that low-down Wade Sawyer. “I found a few no-accounts here and there. None of ’em needed work.” She wondered angrily if she’d told them she was widowed would they come slithering out from under rocks and come along out to the place. She probably could have had those two bums from the saloon.
She glanced at Silas, knowing he might figure out Anthony was dead sooner or later. His well-groomed horse stretched out to a brisk walk beside her.
Silas had brown hair and eyes and was just under six feet tall. Belle had the strange thought that if she had a baby with this man and it looked like him, at least some of the time she could convince herself it looked like her, too.
Then she realized what she was thinking and almost spurred her horse into a gallop. The string of ponies she was dragging along kept her from running.
/> “Okay, what about the trail we’re taking?”
The question thankfully took Belle’s mind off nonsense. “It’s a killer. There’s a canyon near my cabin that has a high pass out of the north side. We’re going in on the south—that’s the only other trail in, and it’s a few hundred feet lower in altitude than the one we’ll take tomorrow. I’ve got the cattle settled in that grassy pasture, and they’ll fight us leaving it and climbing up the side of a cliff to get out.”
A thin whistle escaped Silas’s lips as he listened.
“Then is when it gets really bad.”
Silas shook his head. “Sounds like a killer all right.”
“Yep, we’ve got a hundred miles of treacherous turns, flanked by steep cliffs a good part of the time and going up and down one mountain after another. The trails are blocked in places with talus slides. The landslide areas seem like they’re looking for a horse’s leg to break.”
“A hundred miles isn’t much as cattle drives go.”
“Nope, we’ll make it. But where there aren’t cliffs, there are heavily wooded mountainsides that will have to be constantly combed for bunch quitters. This trail is part of the backbone of the Rockies. The herd will be strung out over miles. The—” Belle faltered. She’d almost said “the girls,” but she’d let him find out about the girls when they were well away from Divide. “The drovers will be forced to move constantly, circling, pushing.”
“And we’re heading out tomorrow?”
“Yep. I already have the cattle cut out. Old stuff and almost all my steers, plus a few head of heifers just to cull the herd down to a level that won’t ruin my pasture. The cattle have been getting fat and lazy for the last week. I’ve also scouted the trail a bit, and the start’s not so bad. I’ve cleared the first couple of slides and found some likely pastureland. We should be able to keep the herd well fed and content for the first couple of days. By then they’ll be trail broke, and hopefully, when they have to scale the rugged pass along Mount Jack, the cows and my…my cowhands will come through.”
Mary Connealy Page 32
