That gave Gabe two choices. He could stay put to wait for him or hoof it ten miles back to town. Neither choice appealed to him.
Hedges might think that fight would come to nothing, not Gabe. He'd insulted a woman and gone to blows with five men. The men he knew wouldn't let either just ride. Trouble was coming, and he didn't want anymore, not the kind that could bring. He had less to fight for here than he'd ever had at Crystal Creek Bluffs and no one here, except for maybe Hedges, would care if he did end up dead in the street. Crystal Creek—the people in it—had turned against him just like all the people he had called friends. Ollie, however, was the only one he knew of that had made any effort on his behalf that night.
Still staying there for a day or two wouldn't be all that bad, except there was no food in the house and no furniture. The only blanket was the one on the pile of straw he'd been sleeping on. Most important of all, at least in Gabe's mind, he was too handy for those cowboys he'd locked horns with. Even if they had started it, he'd insulted their boss, and a woman at that. They were of a breed of men notorious for using their own brand of righting what they considered a wrong. From all Hedges told him, he'd been wrong. He had no call talking to any woman the way he had spoken to Little Sam.
If they stuck to fists, they'd finish the beating they'd been interrupted in giving. If they decided fists were too easy for what he'd done, he didn't have any kind of weapon to protect himself. His pistol, the one thing he'd retained ownership of after that night in Crystal Creek, was packed away in a bag of a meager collection of charity clothes still in town. But good old Hedges had thought of all that. At dusk, a wagon pulled up, and the driver hailed the house.
"Howdy," the man yelled when Gabe stepped to the door. "Hedges asked me to drop some things off for you."
"All that?" Gabe asked, eyeing the full bed of the wagon dubiously.
"Heck no, I'm the cook for the Rocking M. Most call me Biscuit. That's their grub for the next month."
"Aren't you in the wrong camp?"
"Huh? Oh, you mean that ruckus you had with Pierce. Naw, Little Sam said to forget it. It's her I answer to."
"Meaning Pierce hasn't forgotten it?"
"Nope, but then he's carrying a sight more to show he's been in a fight than you," the man said with a grin. "You sure enough busted his nose and blackened both his eyes."
"He started it."
"Sure did, and that's what Little Sam told him, yelling at the top of her lungs. Ain't seen her that mad since the set-tos she used to have with Big Sam. She fair burned Pierce's tail feathers, telling him it was his own fault for starting it, so's he better not make anything more of it."
"Does he listen to her?"
"He does if he wants to keep working for her." The man climbed down and went to the back of the wagon, talking while he moved. Gabe followed him. "Little Sam don't take no guff off the men that work for her, and he knows it. He's got an edge right now, what with him being the one that holds the homestead claim on where the main buildings are, but he still knows he's got to toe the line. If Little Sam gets mad enough, she'll still fire him. He sure enough found out when Big Sam died. He thought he was going to be the cock of the walk around there, but that girl don't backwater for no one."
"Real fire-eater," Gabe muttered bitterly.
The cook only caught the words, not the tone. "Sure can be," he said in agreement. "But most the time she's the prettiest little thing you ever saw."
He got all wistful-sounding, and Gabe got short-tempered. He saw his bag and reached for it. "Thanks," he said gruffly, then turned away.
"Oh, hold on. Hedges sent you out some grub. He said you was only staying a day or two, so he didn't send much."
Gabe looked over the size of the box the cook struggled to lift out of the wagon and snorted. "Not nearly enough if I plan on feeding half the Sioux Nation."
"Hedges believes in eating hardy. Here, you take this one, and I'll get the other one."
"Other? Look, I think there's been a mistake. I couldn't eat that much food if I stayed here a month. Oh no, he doesn't," he said quickly, realizing it was another of Hedges' moves to get him to stay that long, if not longer. "You just take all that stuff back to him."
"I cain't," the man said, looking at him strangely. "I'm going the other way. Hedges can take back what you don't use, if that's what's worrying you. He ain't one to see food go to waste. It's all stuff that will keep." He handed Gabe the first box, stuck a folded blanket on it, and went after the second box.
"I'd lay odds on that," Gabe grumbled.
"Huh?"
"Nothing, just set it down. I can take it in."
"Oh, no trouble. Whole lot easier for me to carry it on in than for you to lift it off the ground," he said, walking off, leaving Gabe to follow.
The man walked straight around the side of the house to the backdoor, showing he'd been there a time or two, probably delivering to Smith.
"Used to be a table in here." He sat the box on the dry sink. "Might look out in the barn for it, the pans and such Smith used, too. Make it a mite more comfortable eating a meal." He gave him another wink. "Smith ain't gonna be back for it. May as well make use of it. I got to be hurrying now, or dark will catch up to me."
"How far have you got to go?"
"Another two miles," he said with a flick of his hand in the way of a farewell.
Gabe stood looking at the two boxes of food, damning Hedges for his interference on one hand and thanking him on the other. He was hungry, but he didn't like the feeling he was being manipulated. Hedges was sure enough trying to do that. Hell, he was doing it, and Gabe wasn't sure he cared enough to do anything to stop it.
* * *
"You took long enough," Pierce growled when the supply wagon pulled into the Rocking M yard. His mood matched his forbidding look. His blackened eyes showed up even worse in the lantern light than daylight, looking like dark holes in his face with his normally large nose even larger.
"Not much longer than usual," Biscuit replied. "Burns was busy, then Hedges stopped me. Maybe an hour longer, that's all, and all of you sure ain't gonna starve to death in that length of time. 'Sides, I put beans on before I left."
"What'd Hedges want?" Pierce said, ignoring the rest of the conversation.
"Had me drop some grub off for that Taylor feller."
He had his back to Pierce, reaching in for a box, but he found himself facing him soon enough, with a none too gentle jerk at his shoulder.
"Grub? What for?" Pierce demanded.
"To eat, I reckon," Biscuit retorted, shaking the hand off. "He aims to stay a few days."
"What for?"
"Hedges said to wait for the next stage. Now if you want to know anything more, you go ask him. I got work to do."
He turned back to the wagon, and Pierce jerked him around again. "What were you doing favors for him for?"
"'Cause I was asked. Now let go."
"Don't do it again," Pierce warned.
"Little Sam said leave him be."
"Then leave him be. No more favors. I mean it."
"Sure, Pierce. Don't reckon there'll be much call between now and when the stage leaves anyhow," he said carefully.
Pierce stormed off, and Biscuit went looking for Little Sam.
"I don't see any reason to worry about it," she said after listening to him talk continuously, telling her in detail what had happened from the time he met Hedges in town.
"Little Sam, he sent him enough food for months. I tell ya, it looks like he's moving in."
"Why wouldn't he, Biscuit? He does own it."
"Ma-am," he exclaimed in horror, "you ain't gonna let him keep it?"
"It's his."
"But that was your favorite place. You had Pete build that house special, and you done planted your garden. You cain't just give it up."
"I lost it, first by placing my trust in the wrong person, then over what Pierce did." She shrugged slightly. "If Hedges is right, once Mr. Taylor gets over being
mad, he won't keep the place, anyway. Didn't Hedges tell you Mr. Taylor was leaving in a few days?"
"Then why did he send him all that food? Tell me that."
"Perhaps Mr. Taylor is a heavy eater," she said dryly. Lord knew he could use a lot of good food as thin as he was, not that she'd say that or should have noticed how a man's body was formed.
"No, ma'am, Little Sam, he's up to something. You mark my words. Better talk to him."
"All right, I'll talk to him. Now, please, I've got work to do."
"Just one more thing." He hesitated and then blurted out. "Pierce come up when I come in. He ordered me not to do nothing like drop off food for him again. He ain't done making trouble."
"I'll talk to him, too. Now go on and get those supplies unloaded."
She kept her self-assured poise until Biscuit left her alone, and then she took to chewing her pencil. Just what was Hedges up to, and just what was the reason Mr. Taylor had turned on her so viciously?
The end of her pencil was splintered before she threw it down and decided to leave the paperwork until the next day. She might as well; she wasn't getting anything done.
She made a decision before turning the lamp out. Hedges was the one up to something, not Taylor. Hedges was the one she was going to talk to first thing in the morning.
Chapter Three
Sammy had planned on going into town and talking to Hedges when she left her place. When she came to the gate at Taylor's—the thought of the place being someone else's was something she couldn't accept without a pang of regret—she turned in there instead.
She helloed the house but didn't receive an answer. As the place was no longer hers, she wouldn't dismount unless invited. Walking her horse to the back until she faced the barn, she called out again.
She still didn't get an answer, but when she turned in the saddle to call towards the house, she nearly jumped off her horse. He was standing ten feet away from her, and she hadn't heard a whisper of sound to announce his approach.
"I didn't hear you come up," she said lamely to explain her jump. "I called."
"In the garden and didn't hear you," he said, his voice betraying nothing more than mild curiosity.
"Nothing better tasting than fresh peas off the vine," she said, tipping her head towards the pea pod he had in his hand. She didn't know what to say or why she had stopped in the first place and grasped at the first thing she could think of.
Gabe nodded, watching her closely as he said, "Just starting to turn. This was the only one near ripe."
"There'll be more than you can use. Should be snapping beans, too. Maybe we can work out a deal. I could see to having all of it put up, give you back what you'd need, then keep the rest."
"Are you Little Sam?"
"Yes," she answered in surprise. "Didn't you recognize me?"
"No," he said crisply, turned his back to her, and walked off.
Sammy suffered a slow burn. She could feel the flush working up her neck until her face flamed. He was the rudest man she had ever met, and he had no reason—regardless of what Hedges said—he had no reason to treat her that way.
Feeling a fool for stopping in the first place, she jerked her horse around to ride out of there, only to jerk back hard on the reins to keep from running over him. He'd walked off to one side of the house, and he must have gone a full circle, coming around behind her from the other side in the time she'd sat there.
"I know I said things I shouldn't have, and I apologize," he said flatly.
He flustered her completely, causing her face to burn even more. "It's all right. They didn't have any call jumping you like that."
"I won't keep this place from you. I'll leave as soon as Hedges comes after me."
He walked off, but that time she jumped off her horse to keep up with him. In a flash, she was beside him. "Wait a minute, please."
"What for?" he asked, his tone still flat and brisk.
"Because…because I cain't pay you for it, Mr. Taylor. I haven't the money."
"I didn't ask for any," he said, turning to walk off again.
"Look," she exclaimed, drawing him back around to face her, "it's hard enough saying this without you walking off every sentence. I can't pay you for it, and I won't take it until I can."
"Are you in on this with Hedges?" he asked suspiciously.
"In on what?" she asked in surprise, only to narrowed her eyes. "Just what is Hedges up to?"
He shifted his weight, looking away from her quickly. Sammy realized for the first time that he was as embarrassed as she was, maybe more so considering what he had said to her the first time they'd met.
"Mr. Taylor, I really don't know what Hedges is up to, but I know him well enough to know it involves trickery. Is he trying to buffalo you into something?"
"Someone should have warned me before I landed here. He's played tricks on me ever since," he admitted, still unable to look at her.
"There's no end to the depths he'll go to get what he wants. You may as well give up," she advised good-naturedly. He looked at her then, and she added quickly, "I'm not in on it. I don't even know what it is."
He didn't seem convinced, telling her, "Smith said you'd give the money for the deed in a minute. Now you tell me you don't have it and won't take the deed until you do."
"I cain't, but I haven't talked to Hedges. What is it he wants you to do?"
"Stay here," Gabe said bluntly.
"Oh, I see. Or I'm beginning to see. Honestly, I'm not in cahoots with him, but Hedges knows I don't have any cash. I used every cent I had making the improvements on those claims. I won't have any cash until this season's drive is made, and he knows that, too. If I did have, I would give it to you in a minute, just for the satisfaction of seeing Hedges foiled for once."
"You could go ahead and take it," he pointed out uncomfortably.
"No, I couldn't do that, but I will see if I can borrow enough. When did you plan on leaving?"
"On the next stage."
"But that's…" Her hand flew up over her mouth to hide the smile.
"Today?" he asked.
"This morning. I'm afraid he's got you again."
"That old sidewinder. That settles it; I'm hoofing it to town."
"It's a long walk," she said, merriment dancing in her eyes. "I'm sorry, but it is kinda funny."
"Not from where I'm standing," he said rudely. He raised his head to listen to and identify a new sound, iron rimmed wheels.
"That's probably Hedges" she said. "He'll probably claim he busted a wheel."
"He's used that one already."
Gabe was curt and short again, but this time she understood the reason. He was several feet ahead of her by the time she had retrieved her horse and could follow, which she did without even thinking about it until she heard his voice raised in anger.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
A woman sat in the small buckboard, the back loaded, and a small boy about one year old or so beside her. Sammy's first thought was how lovely the woman was, a real lady from her lace-gloved hands to the perky little hat perched on a mass of long, fair blonde curls.
"Is that any way to speak to the mother of your child?" the woman asked.
"Now he's mine again?" Gabe asked furiously. "What is it you want me to do for you that's got you lying this time?"
"You, I want you. I followed from the hospital as soon as I realized you weren't coming back to Crystal Creek. I know I said some horrible things, but I was only trying to—"
He cut her off sharply. "Get me to murder for you so you could claim more land?"
"For Danny," she interjected quickly. "Your son."
"It was never for Danny," Gabe growled at her, leaning forward with a hand braced on the wheel. "And he ain't mine. Even after you told me the truth, I asked the Doc to be sure. He said the shape I was in, I couldn't even have got it up, let alone forced you. That babe is either your husband's or whoever you were whoring around with then."
"I'm go
ing to ignore that," she said with a tearful-sounding sigh. "I was angry when you left. I wouldn't have told people those lies otherwise. Let me make it up to you. Let me prove how much I love you. We can save the ranch, and when you come back with me and people see us together again, they'll know—"
She reached out to touch his cheek.
Gabe recoiled so violently the horse pulling the buckboard shied to the side and whinnied. Sammy's horse responded, whinnied back, shook its head, jingling its bridle, and moved forward until Sammy's hold of the reins stopped it. Two heads turned at the sound.
"I…I…" Sammy stammered.
With a disgusted rake of her eyes, the woman asked, "What is that?"
"Shut your mouth," Gabe told her.
"I guess now I know where you disappeared to, and it wasn't any cattle drive." She looked at Sammy, her face twisted into an ugly mask when she spoke, not to Gabe, but Sammy. "Well, don't let me interrupt your visit. I just came by to deliver his bastard."
"Damn you, Brenda," Gabe said coldly.
Brenda stood up in the buckboard. One small suitcase was just behind her, sitting on top of several large trunks. She hurled the case at Gabe. He batted it away easily. He caught and dropped the cloth bag she threw next and jumped forward when Brenda grabbed the child by the collar with one hand. Her face twisted even more when, instead of hurling the child at him, allowing Gabe to catch him, she pushed the little boy forward over the front of the wagon.
The baby screamed. The horse, its back feet inches from the child, danced nervously. Then Brenda reached to release the brake handle. Gabe barely caught it when it slipped past the locking notch. Only his hand holding that brake handle, kept the wagon from moving forward to crush the child beneath the wheels.
Sammy held her breath in dread, fearing the child would be kicked or crushed as the horse lunged against the traces and see-sawed the buckboard back and forth, the near wheel rocking within inches of the baby. Above him, Gabe fought Brenda's fists pummeling his hand and to hold the handle with that hand and reach the child with the other.
Little Sam's Angel Page 4
