Mail-Order Cousins 3

by Joyce Armor

  A few minutes later, Mr. Cutter came out, followed by Toby and Bess. Toby was proudly carrying plates, and Bess held three forks. She noticed the prongs were faced down. It might have been happenstance, but she doubted it. Her grandfather was looking out for her safety. She also noticed nobody was carrying napkins. No doubt they didn’t own any. Mr. Cutter handed her a knife for cutting the pie. He was still clutching the ancient shotgun. The children were wearing the same clothes they’d had on in the mercantile, although perhaps they’d worn different apparel in the several days since she’d seen them. Somehow she doubted it.

  They all sat down on the blanket and Lindy stifled the urge to laugh. The other three were all so solemn.

  “My mother thinks a good pie can solve the problems of the world. I think she might be right.”

  Slowly she unwrapped the paper around the pie, drawing out the suspense. When she finally revealed the pastry, the kids squealed and Mr. Cutter actually gasped. She wished Cal could see this.

  As she began cutting the pie, the old man licked his lips and the children moved closer. She realized then that this family wasn’t just eager to eat the pie; they were hungry. It humbled her. She cut faster and handed the children their pieces before cutting a large wedge for their grandfather and a smaller one for herself. Toby and Bess wolfed their pie down, but Mr. Cutter savored every bite. When they were through, Lindy refilled their plates with more pie. Still, there was a goodly portion of the dessert left. Lindy carefully wrapped it back up in the paper and handed it to the old man.

  Mr. Cutter looked at the kids. “Take the plates and silverware back to the house. You take the forks, Toby.”

  They snatched up the items and ran off. The old curmudgeon started to get up, but Lindy grabbed his bony wrist and held him in place.

  “Mr. Cutter…why won’t you take any help?”

  “I cain’t work. No one will hire me to do anything. A man’s got his pride.”

  “But at the expense of the children? They’re hungry. They need new clothes.”

  Now he was angry, as he had a right to be. She’d overstepped the bounds. She just hoped she hadn’t undone the good that the pie had accomplished. He stood up and started to stomp off. She noticed his pride wasn’t so great that he left the pie behind. It was clutched to his side. She jumped up and ran after him.

  “I just want to help.”

  “We don’t take no charity,” he spat out.

  He had just about reached the cabin, where she knew he would shut her out. She rested a hand on the hitching post, trying to still her frustration. Feeling the indentation of the elaborate carving, she suddenly had an idea.

  “Mr. Cutter, did you do this carving?”

  He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “What of it?”

  She grinned. “It’s magnificent. I’ve never seen anything like it. People pay a lot of money for good carving.”

  “My hands. I cain’t do it as fast as I once did.”

  “You wouldn’t have to do but one or two items a month to make a decent living.”

  He opened the cabin door and started to go in, but then stopped. “Don’t got no supplies.”

  She thought about that. “Tell me what you need and I’ll supply it.”

  He started to object. “We’ll be partners and share in the profits.”

  He didn’t say anything for a long time, and she thought he would reject the idea. Then he shook his head and walked into the cabin.

  She was right. She sighed. Well, she had tried.

  Then she heard him call out. “You comin’? I ain’t got all day.”

  Chapter 7

  By the time Lindy got home, Cal was organizing a search party. Several of the men were mounted and just heading out when she rode in. Flynn was among them. She felt guilty about ditching him.

  “I’m truly sorry, Flynn. I…I needed some privacy.”

  She glanced at Cal. If looks could kill…

  Best carry on as if nothing is wrong.

  She rode past the men and into the barn, where she unsaddled Penelope and rubbed her down. She heard the men returning with their horses and unsaddling them, but no one spoke to her. This was bad. She had done a good deed today, but at what price? She had to find a way to make it right. She spotted Cal across the barn.

  “Cal, I…”

  “Not here,” he ground out.

  She had never seen him so angry. Come to think of it, she had never seen him angry at all. He didn’t frighten her. In fact, he rather annoyed her. This man who was keeping the biggest secret of all from her, whether or not he was robbing the bank or infiltrating the gang, had the nerve to be out of sorts with her because she evaded her jail keeper to guard her own secret. She fed and watered Penelope and then strode out of the barn, her chin held high. The men gave her a wide berth.

  Cal watched his wife strutting out of the barn. He might have found it amusing if he had not been so worried about her. He was angry and frustrated that she cared so little about her personal safety, even as he recognized she didn’t know where the danger lay because he’d kept her in the dark about his activities. What a muddle. He had to be stern with her, though. She had to follow his dictates. Her life could depend on it.

  He thanked the men for their help and strode purposefully toward the ranch house and the inevitable argument, going over in his mind whether the situation called for authority, connivance or understanding. He opted for authority; it had served him well in the past. He found her in the bedroom, where she had taken off her split skirt and was sitting at the dressing table in her blouse and bloomers. She had just removed the tie from her long braid and was untwisting it and fluffing out her hair. If she thought that was going to distract him, she was sadly mistaken. Mostly.

  “You cost me time and labor that should have been spent doing ranch work. It was thoughtless of you,” he said sternly.

  She didn’t turn around, but he saw her eyes narrow in the mirror.

  “I do apologize for any inconvenience I’ve caused and will be happy to pitch in with ranch work tomorrow to make up for it,” she replied stiffly as she began brushing her beautiful auburn hair.

  “Where were you?”

  She sighed and continued brushing. A part of her wanted to be obstinate and not tell him. Let him stew in his own juices. She was proud of what she accomplished, though, and a greater part of her wanted to share the good news.

  “I went to visit Toby and Bess.”

  He grabbed her arm, not too roughly but hard enough so she knew he meant business, and turned her toward him. “Are you out of your mind? I told you about their grandfather and how dangerous he is.”

  For some reason that really set her off. She was tired of him treating her like a brainless, incompetent idiot. “For your information, Mr. Know-it-all big fat bully, we shared a pie and made a business deal.”

  “What?” That absolutely stunned him. It was as if she had spoken a foreign language. It didn’t make sense. Cutter was hostile to everybody.

  She yanked her arm out of his grip. “I am not some stupid ninny without a brain or skills. If you must know, Mr. Cutter and I are going into the wood-carving business. And I can take care of myself. I’m not helpless. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to undress without you gawking at me.”

  He was speechless. This had gone all wrong. He was supposed to be lecturing her and putting her in her place and she had completely shocked him and turned everything around. Cutter didn’t get along with anybody, wouldn’t take any help, wouldn’t allow anyone on his property no matter how much they wheedled and cajoled. And she ate a pie with him? How had she gotten past his defenses? He sighed inwardly. All right, the authority card didn’t work. It was time for a new approach.

  He put a hand on her shoulder and felt her stiffen. “Lindy, I just want you to be safe.”

  She relaxed a bit at that declaration and blew a breath through her hand. She shook her head as if clearing it.

  “I appreciate that, Cal, I
truly do. But you have to stop treating me like some hot-house blossom. You wanted a wife who was fit. I’m fit. I’m not helpless.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  He pulled her to her feet and held her lithe body against him. “And you are very, very fit.”

  He lifted her chin up with a finger and kissed her, tenderly at first and then more urgently. There was no mistaking that she kissed him back with equal enthusiasm. Moments later they were writhing around on the bed. The argument led to one of their most passionate lovemaking sessions, which left them both contentedly exhausted. Once they regained their senses, they laid there, each thinking that tomorrow at 9 p.m. was getting ever closer and not daring to mention it to one other.

  The day went by with no more confrontations, and a good dinner and supper assuaged the ranch hands, getting her back in their good graces. She felt humbled and surprised at how important that was to her. After supper she took Flynn aside and explained to him why she had ditched him and what she accomplished with Mr. Cutter. She had put him in a bad position with Cal, making it look like he couldn’t do his job, and she sincerely apologized.

  “Don’t you worry about it, Miz Bronson. Cal told me you’re a tricky one.”

  She laughed. “I told you to call me Lindy. And let me know if I can ever do anything for you.”

  “You can make another one of them peach pies,” he grinned.

  * * *

  It was Thursday. The Big Day. Cal insisted on accompanying Lindy to town to purchase the supplies for her wood-carving venture with Elijah Cutter. He tried to pay for the items, but she refused. With her own money, she purchased enough wood for three hitching posts and a couple of other blocks of wood, in case Mr. Cutter could carve bears or other animals or objects. She also bought a chisel, a whittling knife and a couple of other wood-carving tools.

  On their way out of town, they passed Cortland Rensalaar and Bethany coming out of the bank. She started to wave at Cal and then saw Lindy and scowled, her hand freezing in mid-wave.

  “I don’t think she likes me,” Lindy said.

  Cal laughed.

  On the way back to the ranch, she thought of Cortland Rensalaar.

  “I haven’t met Bethany’s father, the famous rich man, Mr. Rensalaar, but I don’t get a good feeling about him, and not because his daughter is so annoying.”

  Cal smiled. “He has a reputation for being ruthless in business. Although there have been rumors of wrongdoing over the years, he’s too slick to get caught. Or maybe they are just rumors and he hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  “Stop.”

  “What? Why?” He pulled on the reins, bringing the wagon to a halt.

  “Let’s take the supplies out to Mr. Cutter now.”

  All he needed was a confrontation with the old man that escalated into something worse. He hesitated.

  Lindy smiled. “Come on. I won’t let him hurt you.”

  She almost burst out laughing at the affronted look on his face. He shook his head and turned the rig around. He supposed it did make sense to deliver the wood and other supplies rather than to haul them home to unload and reload.

  “Let me do the talking,” Cal said, and Lindy looked at him like he was crazy.

  “Absolutely not. We’ve been over this, Mr. Bronson. I have a pistol in my pocket and a brain in my head. Mr. Cutter is my business partner, not yours.”

  God, I love it when she’s bossy. No, that couldn’t be right. What he loved was her indomitable spirit, her strength of will and independence. Bethany Rensalaar was a petulant child compared to this vibrant woman. Now, if they could just meet with old man Cutter without getting themselves killed.

  As expected, the grisly old coot was waving his shotgun as they drove up.

  “It’s okay, Mr. Cutter, we’ve brought the carving supplies.”

  He waved the shotgun, pointing it suspiciously at Cal.

  “Who’s this feller? I don’t like his looks.”

  Lindy laughed gaily. “He does look rather formidable when he scowls. This is my husband, Cal Bronson. He’s a good man, I swear.”

  “Oh, right. I’ve seen you before. Sceered you right off’n my property.”

  “Where would you like us to put the wood, sir?”

  “He’s one of those git-down-to-business fellers, ain’t he?”

  Lindy smiled and looked at Cal tenderly. “That he is. How about if we pile the wood on that tarp by the side of the cabin, or do you want it inside?”

  Cutter thought about that for a moment or two. “Outside is good. Give it a chance to season a bit.”

  Lindy jumped down from the wagon. Cal wondered if there would ever be a time when she would let him help her down. He supposed not. She grabbed the bag from the wagon bed and took it to the old man.

  “Here’s the tools you asked for. Oh, I got some blocks of wood too. Can you carve animals or objects?”

  “Can if’n I want to.”

  She smiled. They stood watching as Cal carried the wood over to the side of the cabin.

  “So he’s a good man, is he?”

  She grinned. “That he is, even though he made some questionable decisions in the past, like going out with Bethany Rensalaar.”

  Cutter’s eyes narrowed. “Rensalaar. Cortland Rensalaar her father?”

  “Yes, the big rancher.”

  “You watch out for him, Missy. He’s a cheater and a thief.” He stepped off the stoop and spit onto the ground.

  Cal was done unloading the wood and looked over at his wife.

  She squeezed Mr. Cutter’s arm. “I’ll be back soon with another pie.” She looked around. “Where are Toby and Bess?”

  “They’re out pickin’ strawberries.”

  “Ooh, do you like strawberry tarts?”

  He smiled. Cal shook his head in disbelief. He had never seen Cutter smile. He didn’t think anyone had ever seen the old geezer smile.

  “You ready?”

  He tried to catch her as she approached the wagon. She beat him again, though, vaulting into the seat. He had to chuckle. This had become a challenge now. He would find a way to help her in or out of a wagon or die trying. They waved to the old man standing in his doorway and drove off.

  Lindy thought about telling Cal what Mr. Cutter had said about Rensalaar but thought she should get more information from the old fellow before doing that. If not, she might sound like she was just trying to paint the rancher in a bad light because his daughter was so obnoxious. And it was probably his fault. She turned to Cal.

  “Is there a Mrs. Rensalaar?”

  “What made you think of that?”

  “Just wondered who was responsible for making Bethany so…so…you know how she is.”

  “Yeah, I know. She told me her mother died when she was 12. Word around town is that the woman ran off with a gambler.”

  “Oh. Hmm. Don’t make me feel sorry for that she-devil.”

  “Why Mrs. Bronson, I do believe you’re jealous,” he grinned.

  He continued grinning as his wife’s face turned pink and almost red. Then they passed the saloon as three men walked out, and his grin faded. It was Decker and the two other gang members. While Decker had a look of danger about him, mostly because of the scar, the other two could pass for average cowpokes. Lindy saw them too and her heart began pounding wildly. She wanted to grab the reins from Cal and drive the horses to the next county, or the next state. She felt so possessive of him, as if she were trying to wrestle her husband away from Satan, represented by the three men exiting the saloon.

  “Would you like to go for a ride after supper?”

  She knew what he was doing. He was trying to distract her so she wouldn’t notice the men or at least wouldn’t ask him about them. She wanted to. She wanted to tell him she knew he was up to something, and that something was robbing the bank. Or pretending to go along with robbing the bank. Either one was incredibly dangerous and could be life-changing. As the hour got closer, she thought again about informing the
sheriff. She would rather see Cal in jail than dead, yet getting the sheriff involved could get him killed.

  Cal knew Lindy saw the men. Why didn’t she say anything about Decker, that he had been the man she chased off the property? He had to be a suspicious man in his line of work, and that didn’t sit right with him. Perhaps he was too suspicious. She had only seen him once, and just for a few minutes. Maybe she didn’t recognize him. By tonight it would be over, one way or another. He glanced over at Lindy. She looked pensive.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “What? Oh. Yes, I’d love to take a ride. We could go right after I finish the supper dishes. I’ll change clothes before the meal so that won’t hold us up.”

  “That sounds good. What’s for supper?”

  “That, Mr. Bronson, is a surprise.”

  She had planned the repast as if it might be their last meal together, a sobering, no horrifying thought. Lindy wanted to put all the love she felt for her man into the meal of steak, fried potatoes and a medley of vegetables, with apple tarts for dessert.

  Would tonight’s ride be the last ride they ever took together? She couldn’t bear the thought. She knew then she would have to confront Cal about the bank robbery. But not now. And she wouldn’t spoil their ride either. Before 9 p.m., though, she would tell Cal her suspicions and finally find out what was going on. As it turned out, ignorance was not bliss.

  Chapter 8

  Lindy finally felt she had regained her strength after her bout of influenza. The ride with Cal was glorious. They cantered at first and then indulged in a friendly race, galloping across the prairie. He won, but just barely. He took her to a little valley with a running brook at the far end of his property to the west. It was as picturesque a sight as she had ever seen. They tied the horses to a bush at the edge of the stream and sat down.

  Cal removed his boots and socks and plunged his feet in the water. Lindy laughed and removed her shoes and stockings to do the same, shrieking when she felt how cold it was. This couldn’t have been a more romantic outing. Was it possible that she had only been in Texas for a couple of weeks? In some ways it seemed like a lifetime. She needed to confront Cal about the bank robbery but couldn’t seem to come up with the words. And then he spoke.