Beautiful Bandit (Lone Star Legends) (27 page)

Josh dismounted and tethered Callie. He’d never been the envious type, but it was difficult to swallow the lump of resentment forming in his throat. He reminded himself that it wasn’t Griffen’s fault that anthrax had necessitated the sale that had brought him to Eagle Pass. In time and with prayer, he expected the sting of bitterness to ease. So far, unfortunately, it had not.

“And what brings you to town today, neighbor?”

If it had been any other man, Josh might not have noticed. But this was the fellow who’d gobbled up those Lazy N acres like a greedy railroad man. He wore black trousers and a blue shirt—just like Josh’s. He’d bought himself a Stetson, too—a duplicate of Josh’s—and now stood, adjusting the knot of the black neckerchief at his throat.

Lots of time and lots of prayer, he thought, doing his best to match Griffen’s grin, tooth for tooth. “I’m here to fetch the mail. You?”

“The buyer of my printing business back in Boston finally came through with the payment.” He laughed. “Brockman, the builder, will be glad to hear it. I’m sure he thinks he’s working for a deadbeat, because I’ve been promising for weeks to pay for labor and materials.”

Griffen was a lot of things, but deadbeat wasn’t among them. He’d paid for those acres sight unseen and no questions asked, other than price. “Should’ve sent him to me. I would have set him straight,” Josh said.

“That’s high praise, coming from you.” Griffen frowned. “Hasn’t been easy, earning folks’ respect. I’m not just a newcomer to Texas, you know, but a newcomer to this country.” He tipped his hat. “So I am humbled, and I thank you.”

Josh felt the heat of a blush in his cheeks but couldn’t say if shame or guilt had brought it on. He hadn’t tried to make conversations with Griffen difficult. But then, he hadn’t exactly made them easy, either. “Aw, now, no need to get all sappy and sentimental on me.” He chuckled. “Just tellin’ it like it is, that’s all.” He took a step back, adjusting his hat. “Guess I’d best be moving if I hope to be home before dark.”

Griffen stared hard at Callie’s belly. “She’s got herself quite a load there. Hope she hasn’t got into any meadow saffron or moldy hay—”

“Nah. She’s pregnant.”

As he met Josh’s eyes, Griffen’s frown deepened. “I’m no rancher yet, but I’ve studied on it some.” He stroked Callie’s belly. “Not the right season for her to be so far along, is it?”

Josh had to hand it to the man, for it appeared he really had studied on it. “No, it isn’t. And I fear the reason she looks like she does is that she’s carrying twins.”

His eyes wide with shock and dread, Griffen said, “Not a common thing, ya?”

“Right.” Less common? Twins born alive. Rarer still—keeping them alive to become yearlings.

“She’s a good horse.”

Josh nodded.

“I can see the bond between you.”

Another nod.

“I will pray.”

And with that, Griffen walked away, his head down and his hands in his pockets, looking every bit as forlorn as Josh felt.

Just then, a stranger approached. “You one of the Nevilles from the Lazy N Ranch?”

Josh gave the man a quick appraisal. Not a working man, as evidenced by his domed hat, short-breasted suit coat, and polished boots.

“Name’s Gardiner. Collin Gardiner. I work for the Philadelphia Inquirer. I understand your ranch had an outbreak of anthrax.”

Josh felt every muscle tense. “Where’d you hear that?”

“My brother-in-law is Thomas Schaeffer, of San Antonio.”

With his eyes narrowed, Josh pictured the uppity, bulbous-nosed banker, who’d almost smoked him like a hothouse ham in that stuffy little office of his rather than risk sending their papers flying “hither and yon.”

From his pocket, the man pulled out a small writing tablet and a pencil stub. “So, it’s true, then?”

If Josh admitted the truth, word would spread like wildfire, making the healthy Lazy N cattle worthless. “Always has amazed me how ignorant city folk can be,” he said slowly.

Gardiner’s beady eyes narrowed as the bushy brows above them inched closer together. “Ignorant! Why, I’ll have you know I attended Harvard!”

“You don’t say.” If he hoped to talk the man out of writing his anthrax story, Josh realized he’d better try a different approach. “This sham anthrax story is just a cover, right? You’re really here to write about the outlaw gang that’s holed up in the area.”

Gardiner’s eyes flashed like black diamonds. “Outlaw gang? Which one?”

He’d heard that people back East were hungry for stories about showdowns and train robberies, but Josh had never witnessed proof of it before. He did his best to hide his amusement. And his disrespect. “Frank Michaels, if the rumor mill is right. But I’m sure the sheriff or his deputy could set the record straight and give you all the information you need.”

“Just got into town on the morning train,” the reporter said. “Got me a room at the hotel and haven’t even unpacked yet. Mind telling me which way to the sheriff’s office?”

Josh tilted his head toward the courthouse. “You write novels and stories, too, or just newspaper articles?”

Smiling, Gardiner revealed two gold teeth, one up top, the other in the center of his lower jaw. “Matter of fact, I sent one off just before boarding the train.”

“I’m sure the missus will let you know if a publisher shows interest.”

The statement wiped away Gardiner’s grin as quickly as a schoolmarm erasing the alphabet from her blackboard. “Never married,” he said. “Probably never will. Nothin’ against women, mind you, except they talk too much and work too little.”

Josh pretended the joke was funny. “I hear ya.”

The man stared toward the courthouse. “If I could get an interview with a real, live outlaw,” he said, more to himself than to Josh. His eyes glassed over as he tucked the tablet and pencil back into his pocket.

“How long will you be in Eagle Pass?” Josh asked.

“Long as it takes to get a good story.” Walking backwards down the street, he added, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Neville.”

“Believe me, the pleasure’s all mine.” But Gardiner hadn’t even made it halfway to the sheriff’s office when Josh began to worry what his family would do if the reporter didn’t find a better story than anthrax to write about. He could almost hear Mee-Maw saying, “Lay it at the foot of the cross.” So, he shrugged and glanced skyward. “I reckon it’s in Your hands, Lord.”

He’d barely uttered the sentence when Jame Windel rode up. “You hear about the widow woman down in Laredo what’s sellin’ off her man’s herd, one cow at a time?”

Chuckling, Josh doffed his hat and used it to shade his eyes from the bright sun. Looking up at the man in the saddle, he said, “Jame, you take longer getting to the point of a joke than any man I can name.”

“Ain’t no joke!” Windel said. “Heard about it from that infuriatin’ reporter who got off the train this mornin’.”

Josh didn’t ask how the men had happened upon the topic of cattle, for fear it might reawaken Gardiner’s interest in anthrax, but he was interested in the rest of the story. “Any bulls for sale?”

“I’ll say!” Windel dismounted and gave Callie a cursory glance. “Way the feller told it, this woman’s got two stud bulls on the market.”

“You fixin’ to buy one?”

He combed his fingers through his shaggy beard. “Wish I could, but I can’t spare the cash right now. Mable’s all crippled up with the arthritis, and it’s costin’ me every spare penny for ointments and salves to ease her pain.”

So that’s why Windel and his wife hadn’t attended the annual Neville gathering. “Sorry to hear it, Jame.”

“Your mare get into some yeasty hay?”

Josh groaned. It should have been easier reciting the same facts he’d just delivered to Griffen, but it wasn’t. Maybe he ought to just paint a sign to hold up for everybody to read when they are about to ask about Callie’s swollen belly.

“Well, you need any help with her, should she go breach on you, give a holler. I’ve one-armed many a foal birth in my day.”

He’d be hard-pressed to name a rancher who hadn’t aided a horse or cow in the same way. But “Give Mable my best” is what he said before hustling to the sheriff’s office to pick Gardiner’s brain.

Fifteen minutes later, armed with the name of the widow and her Laredo ranch, Josh sent her a telegram, picked up his mail, and headed home. There’d be a family meeting to discuss the cost of purchasing the bull, and if he could talk the other Neville men into it, he would suggest that they offer the widow seven hundred dollars and let him make the trip to cut the deal. He sure could use the time it’d take to get there and back to puzzle out what he should do about “Dinah Theodore”—if she were still there when he returned.

31

It’s a good deal, I tell you.”

Matthew Neville rested his chin atop steepled hands. “I’m not quibbling about the bull’s value, son. It’s the price that concerns me.” He looked to his younger brothers for support.

Mark, perched on one corner of the big mahogany desk, spoke up first. “I’m of the same mind as your boy. We need insurance, and a strong line of Angus will give it to us.”

John nodded. “And going in there blind, Josh has to be prepared to top all offers.”

Then it was Luke’s turn. “We could get lucky. Maybe Josh will get there and discover the top offer is just a couple hundred dollars.”

“But we want to be fair,” Dan pointed out. “Wouldn’t do to cheat a widow.”

Micah started to pace. “Dan’s right,” he said. “The lady has a right to get what the stud is worth. But Uncle Matthew is right, too—seven hundred dollars is a lot of money.”

“Not if he’s a quality animal,” Paul put in.

“A lot to gamble for an if,” said Matthew.

Josh sat back and surveyed the seven other men gathered in his father’s study, each of them smart, tough, and capable to a fault, whether born into the second generation of Nevilles or the third. Yet not one could make a decision without the approval of the rest. “I’ll find a way to repay y’all, if this beast doesn’t earn his keep,” he offered. “You’ve got my word.”

“And deprive us of taking it out of your hide?” Dan joked.

A quiet ripple of laughter rolled around the room, and then Matthew cleared his throat, effectively silencing it. “There’s work to be done around here,” he reminded them, “so let’s nail down a decision, boys, and get to supper. I’m starved.”

It was times like this when Josh wished he’d given in to the urge to strike out on his own after Sadie’s death, because then he wouldn’t need the consent of seven other strong-minded men before making important decisions. “I wasn’t fooling earlier,” he said. “I say, let’s do this thing, and if it turns out poorly, I’ll take the hit.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Uncle Luke growled.

“What affects one of us…” Uncle John started.

“…affects us all,” Uncle Mark finished for him.

In the ensuing silence, Josh reminded himself that the real decision—go or stay, buy or not—was God’s.

“So, when will you leave, son?”

He sat up straighter at his father’s inquiry. “First light, I reckon.”

“Take my wagon,” Dan offered. “It’s built for hauling livestock, plus it’s brand-new, so you won’t have to fret about losing a wheel on the way home.”

That’s all we need, Josh thought as Uncle Mark volunteered his team—to lose a seven-hundred-dollar bull in a freak wagon accident.

But they’d finally come to a decision, and for that, he sent a silent prayer of thanks heavenward.

He made a point of visiting his grandmother before turning in that night, and she insisted that he pull a chair up close to her bedside. It broke his heart to watch her struggle with every word, and he prayed for the ability to comprehend what she was trying to communicate before she had to wear herself out with repetitions.

“Watch for s-snakes,” she said. “And d-drive s-slow, you hear, es-espesh…coming home.”

She wanted to know which route he’d take and how long he thought he would be gone and also made him promise to come see her the minute he returned.

Josh secured a promise from her, too. “I know how anxious you are to get back to doing things the way you did them before, but promise me you’ll take it easy, all right?” When she answered with a jerky nod, he kissed her good night. And because Callie had worked hard, taking him to Eagle Pass and back, he decided to walk back to his place.

Looking down as he sauntered along the well-worn path, he didn’t see Dinah step out of the shadows, and he nearly leaped out of his boots when she said, “I wish I could ride to Laredo with you, Josh.”

He masked his surprise with a hearty chuckle. “You must be taking walk-like-a-cat lessons from Daniel.”

But she ignored the joke. “It’s a long, dangerous ride, and even if you don’t count bandits and outlaws, I can think of a hundred reasons why it’s just plain crazy for you to make this trip alone.”

Her skin glowed like alabaster in the light of the moon, making him want to reach out and touch her, just to remind himself how warm and soft it was. “I’ll be fine,” he said, flattered by her concern.

“Oh, and now I suppose you’re going to tell me that you’ve made the trip a thousand times and never encountered so much as a big ol’ spider along the way.”