Deborah Camp (17 page)

Monroe grinned good-naturedly. “So you decided to show yourself after all,” he said to Drew.

“I figured I’d be neighborly. Your shindigs were always a good time.”

“That’s the spirit!” He clapped Drew on the back. “Spread yourself around, Drew. There are several young ladies here tonight who are going begging for dance partners.” He captured Cassie’s hand. “They’re getting ready to call a dance, Cassie. Will you do me the honor?”

“Why, certainly, Monroe.” She delivered him a smile, although she wished it was Drew who had asked to partner her in the square.

Drew turned on his heel and stomped across the dance floor.

“What’s wrong with him?” Monroe asked.

Cassie shrugged, catching a glimpse of Drew’s broad shoulders. He had stopped near Mrs. Nelson and was picking up Andy.

“He’s hard to figure,” she said. “Are we going to dance or not?”

“We are,” Monroe assured her, beaming, as he took his place on one side of the floor. Cassie stood with the other women, who faced their partners and waited for instructions to dosey-do or promenade.

The caller stepped forward and began directing the dance steps. Watching them from across the barn, Drew’s gut churned. Holding Andy, he divided his attention
between the sleepy-eyed baby and the babe’s dancing mama. That smile of hers was a damned branding iron! She blasted a man with it, and his heart bore her mark from then on. Just look at Monroe making a blessed fool of himself over her! And Drew knew he wasn’t mark-free himself. She’d branded him, but by God, she wouldn’t castrate him! He wouldn’t be led to the slaughter, grinnin’ like a drunk cat as Monroe Hendrix was right now.

“… ain’t that right, Drew Dalton?” Grandma Nelson’s graveled voice invaded his thoughts.

“What’s that, Mrs. Nelson?” he asked, turning toward the old woman in the rocking chair.

“I said, that there baby is your half brother, ain’t he?”

“Yes, ma’am, he is.” Drew noticed that Andy was sleeping, but fretfully. The little sapling was tired out and should be put to bed. “Looks like he’s ready to leave this party and head home.” Drew shot a glance at the dance floor and saw Monroe’s hand sliding up and down Cassie’s back. His temper flared like a struck match. “And so am I,” he declared, suddenly certain he couldn’t stand one more minute in the same room with Monroe without breaking his fingers one by one or kissing Cassie senseless. “Mrs. Nelson, you tell Cassie that I’ve gone home and that I’ve taken little Andy with me. You tell her to dance her shoes off and have a gay old time with Monroe and not to worry about her tired little son. I’ll take care of him and see that he’s settled in his own bed, safe and sound. You tell her that for me, okay?”

The old lady squinted up at him and chuckled. “Sure I will, son. That’s right sweet of you, looking after her baby so she can twirl her petticoats.”

Drew glared across the barn at Cassie’s swirling petticoats—ones he’d bought her. “Yeah,” he spit out as if each word were a hard, round pit, “I’m a peach.”

Riding back to the ranch with Andy cradled in one arm, Drew hummed softly and looked for falling stars above him. The night sky’s canvas was vast, making him feel like a speck and helping him put the things in his life in the correct order.

In the overall scheme of things, he knew that a man’s life could be as fleeting as a falling star and that a wise man lived each day as if it were his last. When he’d left prison, he had a clear goal in mind: to build a horse-breeding business on his father’s spread. He hadn’t bargained on finding his old man already dead and buried and a widow with a child standing in his way.

What was important then was still important. That hadn’t changed. He loved horses, had a special touch with them, and he would make a name for himself breeding quarter horses. Within ten years folks all over Kansas and beyond would know that the best quarter horses were bred by Drew Dalton at the Square D Ranch.

He wouldn’t be bothered by Cassie very long, he figured, because she was a beauty and would be married before another year slipped by. A woman like her wouldn’t stay alone for too many more months. He sensed the passion in her and knew that she would not deny that part of herself. Maybe she had convinced herself she would, but he knew better, even if she hadn’t figured it out. Cassie would take herself a husband and move away. At that time Drew would draw up a will, leaving the ranch to Andy after Drew had joined his own
mother and father in the family burial plot.

Things would work out fine.

He saw another shooting star and smiled up at it.
Pretty
, he thought, and then found himself remembering how Cassie had looked in that dress he’d bought. Every man at the dance had admired her. He’d felt their eyes on him when he’d held her close. She’d felt like pure pleasure in his arms, all soft curves and smelling like crushed roses.

For a few minutes he had lost himself in her cinnamon-colored eyes. He loved the shape of her mouth and the femininity of her voice. Yes, she was beautiful, and he would never forget kissing her warm mouth and sliding his hands over her white-gold hair. But that’s where it had to end. He had big plans and he had no intention of being sidetracked.

He’d also felt his neighbors’ hostility tonight. Monroe was right. They didn’t trust him, even though he’d been found innocent. In their eyes he was as guilty as sin.

Let them think what they wanted.
They
wouldn’t sidetrack him either!

Andy had fallen asleep. Drew had grown fond of the baby, but that didn’t mean he had what it took to be a good father. Why, he had no earthly idea how to raise a child, since the only example he had was his own pa, who had been a sorry excuse for a parent. Drew always made it clear to any woman he bedded that he wasn’t going to be any baby’s papa. ‘Course, that was fine with the women, because they weren’t looking to be mamas either. Gals in saloons and dance halls might be hunting for husbands, but they weren’t in the baby business.

Nope. He wasn’t fit to be any child’s shining example. Cassie would find little Andy a man he could look up
to; a man who hadn’t been raised by a heartless, pigheaded bull of a man and who hadn’t suffered the horrors of prison; a man respected by his neighbors, not blamed for every shadow and blight on the land.

Dynamite’s ears pricked forward and he shook his mane, grabbing Drew’s notice. Surveying the area, Drew saw nothing out of the ordinary at first, then moonlight and shadows shifted among a stand of trees, and Drew instinctively tugged on the reins, stopping the horse.

Two riders streaked from the spindly trees that stood at the mouth of a gully, handkerchiefs fluttering across the lower part of their faces.

Masked riders? Something was up. Drew’s hackles rose. The men thundered away, making tracks in the direction of the Chisholm Trail and Abilene. Cautiously Drew urged Dynamite forward, noticing that the horse was calm, although his ears were still tilted forward.

He smelled them before he saw them. Cattle. Dynamite walked through the trees and into the gully, where about twenty head of cattle milled about, their coats wet from sweat, their sides heaving from having been driven hard. They weren’t Square D cattle.

Easing the big horse closer, Drew bent to examine the brands in the failing light. Hell’s afire! They were from the Bar Q Ranch out by Abilene. His stomach clenched and his temper reared up.

“Son of a bitch!” he spat, already turning Dynamite around to give chase. Andy shifted against him and waved a tiny fist. Drew pulled up on the reins. “Damnation!”

He couldn’t ride full-out with a baby in his arms. Giving up on that plan, he examined the cattle again and
decided they wouldn’t be going anywhere soon. He’d ride back to the ranch house, wait for the others to return from the dance, then he and Ice would take these cattle back to the Bar Q. He had to talk to the owner, Will Quentin, and tell him how the cattle had arrived at the Square D. He’d return the cattle personally so that there would be no talking behind his back about how he might have stolen them. A fox didn’t return the chickens he’d scattered.

With frustration boiling in his gut, Drew pointed Dynamite toward home and patted Andy’s chest to reassure him.

“Go on back to sleep,” he whispered to the baby. “Mama will be along soon to feed you and rock you to sleepy-bye.”

Sleepy-bye? Now where in tarnation had he picked
that
up? Must have heard it from Cassie. She was always talking foolishness to her baby, and Drew had often caught himself listening with warm enjoyment.

He pushed aside thoughts of her and tried to recall everything he could about the two men he’d seen riding away, but details were scarce. Clouds had moved in to obscure the moon, making the night black as sin. Handkerchiefs and hats had covered the men’s heads and faces.

Someone was trying to get him thrown back into prison, but who? Could it be those two scoundrels he’d shot at? Maybe they were still lurking nearby, making trouble. Or maybe they’d been hired by someone else. Perhaps even Quentin was behind them, though Drew found that difficult to believe. Will Quentin was respected
and had never impressed Drew as a man of dishonor.

Whoever was trying to ruin him was in for a fight. Drew would spill his last ounce of blood on this land before he’d leave it again.

W
hen Monroe finally pulled up in front of Cassie’s house, it was nearly one in the morning. She knew she should have been home from the barn dance hours ago, but she had hated to see the rare evening end. The laughter, the music, the friendly neighbors had kept her dancing until the last song, “Good Night, Ladies,” had been played.

Knowing that Andy was safe at home with Drew and Oleta, who had left for home before midnight, eased her conscience. She figured Drew would fuss about her staying out so late, but she didn’t care. He was jealous, pure and simple. He should have escorted her instead of leaving it to Monroe Hendrix. Shoot, everybody there could see that Drew had it bad for her and was pie-eyed with jealousy when Monroe or anybody else danced with her.

Everybody there seemed to have a grudge to settle with Drew, too. She couldn’t help but notice that when he left, the people seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. She’d heard some of the men refer to Drew as “the cattle thief.” Monroe had called them down and defended Drew. It pained Cassie to realize her neighbors
were so closed-minded that they refused to give a man a second chance.

The house was dark except for a dim light in her bedroom. Oleta had probably lit a lamp there for her before she’d turned in.

“It was a wonderful evening,” Monroe said, setting the buggy brake and turning toward her. “You made it wonderful for me, Cassie. I was proud to have you on my arm.”

“That’s nice of you to say,” she said, uncomfortable because she knew he expected a kiss and she didn’t feel like obliging him. He was a nice enough fellow, but he didn’t make her the least bit hot and bothered. She gazed past him toward the bunkhouse. No lights there. She wondered if Drew was already in bed in the loft, asleep. She’d halfway expected him to be waiting up for her, ready to scold her for staying out so late.

Monroe leaned closer to her. “You were the most beautiful woman there tonight.”

She laughed, feeling awkward. “I shouldn’t have stayed out so late.”

“You deserve a night out, many nights out. Cassie, you’re young and lovely and you should have a man around to heap blessings on you.” He took her gloved hands within his and squeezed them a little too hard. “I would like to be that man. I’d try my best to make you happy. I know I could, Cassie. Won’t you think about it?”

“Roe, I’ve got enough on my mind right now. I don’t need anything else to think about.”

“Yes, you have your troubles, and I could shoulder them. If you’d marry me, I’d make sure the ranch was
run properly and that you and your son would be worry-free for the rest of your lives.”

“You can’t promise such a thing, Monroe. Nobody can promise that.” She pulled her hands from his and flexed her aching fingers before patting him, friendly-like, on the arm. “But it’s a sweet sentiment. Now, I should be getting inside.”

He wasn’t ready to let her go. His arms came around her, preventing her escape, and he dipped his head. His lips fumbled with hers. Cassie didn’t struggle. Her body stiffened and she waited for him to finish the kiss. When his fingers groped for her breasts, she captured his hands and pushed them away from her.

“That’s enough, Monroe,” she said firmly. “Let me go inside now.”

With a sigh of regret, he sat back from her. “Think about my proposal, Cassie.”

“I will,” she whispered, but knew in her heart that his was a lost cause.

Monroe held her by the elbow to steady her as she stepped down from the buggy. She turned and looked up at him, smiling and lifting a hand in farewell.

“Good night and thank you.”

“Sleep well, Cassie.”

He waited for her to slip inside the house before he flicked the reins and set the horse and buggy off toward his own ranch.

Cassie leaned back against the closed door, listening to the departing vehicle. She looked up into the loft, but it was dark and nothing moved up there. A hoot owl called out, then again, sending a shiver over her.

Oleta’s bedroom door opened and the timid girl padded out on bare feet in her white nightgown.

“Señor
Drew and Ice are gone,” she announced.

“Gone?” Cassie glanced up into the loft again, frowning. “Gone, where?”

“I don’t know exactly. When Ice came home,
Señor
Drew went out to meet him. He had been pacing like a wolf. He told me I should watch the baby. Then he and Ice rode off.”

“Just like that.” Cassie sighed. What were those two up to now? “Which way did they go?”

“Straight.” Oleta pointed north, then northwest, then north again.

Cassie rolled her eyes. “Straight. That’s a lot of help.” She peeled off her gloves. “Guess all I can do is wait for them to get back.”

She moved quietly into her bedroom and checked on Andy. He was sleeping soundly, so she undressed and pulled on her nightgown and robe. While she brushed her hair and then braided it, she listened for the drumming of horse hooves but heard only Andy’s rhythmic breathing. Instead of getting into bed, she went to the parlor and sat in one of the rockers. What could have sent the two men out into the night? They wouldn’t have gone to town. Not this late and not after a barn dance.