Boot Hill Bride (20 page)

to whistle it as he pranced down the stairs. The backdoor, still

open, let the sounds of the day float in; men pounding,

sawing, shouting orders, and asking for directions, along with

traffic on the road, birds in the trees, and the happy overall

sounds of life. Howard took a deep breath, let it fill his lungs

completely, and determined life was perfect.

Bug's head popped in the doorway, and he graced his

youngest brother with a wide grin.

"Hello, little brother."

"Uh, Hog?"

"Yes," he answered, his grin never faltering.

"Um..." Bug's cheeks puffed as he dragged a long sigh out.

A chill made Howard's shoulders quiver and his smile fade.

"What?"

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"Randi's folks are back."

He kicked a block of scrap lumber lying on the floor. The

small chunk of wood flew across the room, hit one of the

crates with a solid thud.

"Aw, shit," he muttered.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Bug admitted.

"Where are they?"

Bug pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "Over by the

tents."

Howard didn't look. Maybe if he pretended they weren't

here they'd go away. He rubbed his face, knowing Thurston

Fulton would never disappear.

"When did they get here?"

Bug shrugged. "'Bout half an hour ago. Maybe longer."

Dread washed away the last bits of the bliss he'd lived in

the past few weeks. He'd forgotten the raunchy dislike

Thurston Fulton ensued in the pit of his guts. Randi had been

so happy lately, the load her father thrust on her shoulders

from the time she'd been a young girl should be illegal. From

what he could surmise, by all she'd told him, the man had

deserted her and her mother not long after she'd been born.

The farm they lived at had been purchased by Randi's

maternal grandparents, decedents of the ones who owned the

hotel back east, yet as soon as her mother had died, Thurston

had swooped in, sold the place, and pocketed the money for

his political campaign.

He gave a low, slow shake of his head. The man also had a

hold on Randi that Howard hadn't yet figured out. She talked

of the years she and her mother lived alone, and he heard the

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disdain she felt. He knew she had grit, he'd seen how hard

she worked, how tirelessly she helped, but whenever she

thought of her father she grew as weak as a featherless bird.

There was no doubt that Thurston Fulton was crooked and

most likely as mean as a wild cat. The man was true trouble

with a capital
T
. And of course, there was the overall

knowledge that any connection with a Populist was sure to kill

Howard's dream before he'd even served his first customer.

He wanted to have the man investigated, but knew it wouldn't

be favorable for him to even look interested in Fulton.

"Anything you want me to do?" Bug said.

Howard spun about having forgotten his brother still

hovered in the doorway.

"Wait here for me would ya? Don't let anyone upstairs.

Randi's trying out that new fangled bathing tub with running

water."

Bug glanced at the stairway. "I can't wait to try one of

those out myself."

Howard frowned.

"Not now. I happen to like my life just fine."

He shook his head, tried to catch the meaning of Bug's

words. "What?"

"I said I happen to like my life."

"Yeah, what's that suppose to mean?"

"It means, I ain't gonna go messin' with your wife, or any

other man's wife. That's the fastest way to find yourself

dead." Bug stepped into the kitchen.

Howard had to nod in agreement. He'd easily shoot a man

if he found them messin' with Randi.

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"I'll clean up the scraps and stuff in here. Want me to send

her over to the tents when she comes down?" Bug asked.

"No, I'll come back for her. I don't want her running into

her father when I'm not around."

"You really don't like that man do you?"

"Nope, I really don't."

"Why? You're not one to take a disliking to anyone."

"Honestly," he shrugged, "I don't know. From the moment

I met the man, I got this feeling that he's bad. Just flat out

evil." Howard hadn't admitted his instincts to anyone else,

certainly not Randi. His gaze went to the stairs. "Don't tell

Randi I said that."

"I won't. But that has to be hard."

"What?"

"Hating your wife's father so fiercely."

Howard rubbed his forehead. "It ain't easy, I'll give you

that." He tugged his hat low on his brow. "I'll be back as soon

as I can. Don't tell her they're back."

"I won't." Bug started sweeping odds and ends of wood

shavings into a pile with a whisk broom.

Howard checked his shirt, assuring he'd tucked it in

straight while dressing a short time ago, and made sure his

waistband was even, then lowered his hands to check his gun

belt. His steps slowed. He'd left the whole thing, gun and all,

hanging on the back of one of the chairs in their new

bedroom.

He shot a glance over his shoulder wondering if he should

retrieve it but ultimately determined he wouldn't shoot

Thurston Fulton, not today anyway. Taking a deep, fortifying

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breath, he marched out the door and across the new green

grass of the yard.

Belinda Fulton's sickly-sweet voice vibrated the air long

before he entered the campsite.

"Oh, Howard, it is so good to see you!" she screeched, and

lifting a gaudy green dress high enough to show a good six

inches of pantaloons, she raced toward him.

Moments before she arrived in front of him, she released

the dress to throw her arms up in the air. Howard side-

stepped, and a smile tugged on his lips as she flew passed

him, arms flaying and feet stumbling.

A twinge of guilt crossed his chest, but not enough to

stretch out an arm.
Simpleton!
Why would she think he'd

welcome a hug from her? He'd rather snuggle up to a rattler.

He watched, wondering if she would take a nose dive into the

dirt. She didn't and another twinge of regret tickled his chest.

There were few women he'd taken a liking to, outside of

his wife, that is. There was his Ma, of course, and his sisters-

in-law, and family friends, Willamina and Eva, but beyond

them, he could only recall a gal or two down at Danny J's,

and they'd just been 'cause he needed to appease his

manhood. He'd never had time for silly or uppity ways, and

Belinda Fulton took the cake when it came to uppity.

Her red lips were pulled into an ugly pucker as she

snapped her skirt and twirled around to sneer at him. He

raised one hand, touched the brim of his hat with a mocked

greeting before he turned and strolled toward the camp. Her

huff vibrated the air but slid off his shoulders like water on a

duck's back.

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"Mr. Quinter," Thurston Fulton said, one hand stretched

out.

Howard thought about refusing the handshake, but

decided he'd best try and get along with his father-in-law, for

Randi's sake. If it was just him, he'd chase the repulsive man

and his dim-witted wife clear back to Topeka.

"Mr. Fulton," he greeted, pumping the man's hand with

more force than necessary.

Thurston flexed his fingers several times when they

released their shake.

"We had a wonderful time at your brother's place. Didn't

we, dear?" Thurston turned to Belinda, who flounced up

beside them like a one legged goose.

"Yes, Mrs. Quinter is remarkable. And their children are

such darlings," Belinda remarked, the whole while her hooded

eyes wandered from his boots to his hat.

A quiver raced down his arms. Howard shrugged it off and

directed his question at Thurston, "You just stopping in on

your way to Topeka?"

"No, no, we wanted to be back here in time for your grand

opening." The man's beady eyes went to the hotel. "You've

made remarkable progress while we were gone."

The couple's presence even dimmed the pride he felt every

time he looked at his accomplishment. That irritated Howard

even more. The hotel was something to be proud of. At three

stories tall, it was three times the size of anything in the

state. Not even a building in Wichita, Kansas City, or Topeka

could compare to the empire he was building. Some folks

thought his plan crazy when he first started talking about it,

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but Lila and Skeeter hadn't. Lila swore the hotel would bring

in people by the droves, travelers heading to Denver or

farther west, those going all the way to Sacramento, would

relish the idea of a touch of luxury while crossing the

otherwise desolate plains.

At the sound of his brother's name, he snapped his head

back to Thurston.

"Excuse me?"

"Your brother, Steven, and his wife, Lila, they, too, plan on

being here for the opening. They'll arrive in a week or so,"

Thurston said.

Howard nodded, he'd expected as much. After all they had

invested a lot of money in his undertaking. Kid and Jessie

should be arriving around then, too; his other financial

backers.

"Oh, I can't wait to see their younguns," Ma said, setting a

pot of coffee on the table. "It's been a coon's age since I seen

my babies."

"Well, let me assure you, those children are doing just

fine. Full of spice and vinegar, both of them," Thurston said

with a strained smile.

The comment made Howard frown. His niece, Kendra,

wasn't even three yet and his nephew, Charles, was just a

baby, both children were too small to be considered full of

spice and vinegar. A smile tugged at his lips. The man had

never seen children at their best. He and his brothers had

some tales that would singe the small amount of hair

Thurston Fulton had clear off his round skull.

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A hint of orneriness crept into Howard's mind and made

him ask, "Is Buffalo Killer coming with Skeeter and Lila?"

The way Belinda sucked in her breath was more of an

answer than he needed.

"I certainly hope n—"

"They didn't say," Thurston interrupted. "He, Buffalo Killer,

had returned to his tribe before we left."

"How's he doing?" Ma asked. "Buffalo Killer? He's like one

of my boys, ya know."

Belinda turned a pasty white, and the color of Thurston's

face wasn't far behind.

The man cleared his throat and answered nervously, "He

appeared to be fine."

Howard couldn't wait for Skeeter to arrive and learn what

had actually transpired on the Fulton's trip to the Badlands.

The thought made his mind circle about. Quickly it returned

to the amount of work he still had to get accomplished before

the grand opening of the hotel.

"Well, I'm sure you're here to see Randi. She's at the

hotel, I'll go get her."

"At the hotel? Is it habitable? Is that where you're living?"

Belinda's eyes gazed at the brick building like a child stares at

a candy jar. "We'll, of course, be booking rooms there."

"The rooms aren't ready yet, just our living quarters,"

Howard said.

"But their tent's empty if'n you want to bed down there,"

Ma supplied, and Howard loved her all the more for her

comment. The way Belinda gasped one would have thought

she hadn't breathed for hours.

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"Oh, well, thank you, Mrs. Quinter, but we'll get rooms at

the Dodge House. Our last stay was quite comfortable there,"

Thurston said.

Ma shrugged. "Well, I got some sewing to do. Ya all are

welcome to join us for supper if'n ya want." With a parting

nod, she ducked inside her tent.

Howard watched her depart with a frown. He couldn't very

well ask them to wait here alone while he went to get Randi.

Damn, if he had one wish it would be to shove Thurston and

Belinda back under the rock they'd crawled out from under. A

new twinge of guilt tickled his insides. His mother would be

appalled if she knew his roaming thoughts centered on the

hatred eating at him. Just as Bug had said, it was out of

character for him to feel and act this way toward someone.

"Thurston, I'd really like a bath. We can see Randilynn

later," Belinda said.

"Yes, of course, my dear." Thurston once again stretched a

hand forward. "Mr. Quinter, will you please tell my daughter

we'll be back later?"

Once again, somewhat remorsefully, he shook the other

man's hand. "Certainly."

"Or perhaps, you and Randi could join us for supper at the

Dodge House." Belinda turned to Thurston to add, "I would

like to eat indoors." She sent a nasty glare about the