Miss Phipps and the Cattle Baron (29 page)

"You take your time," Mr. Redman said. He
went back to sweeping the floor, and the other two men continued
their discussion about the hanging. From what they were saying,
Priscilla knew they hadn't seen the hand-written editorial she'd
posted on the Town Hall building three days before, which disturbed
her. She'd posted it early in the day, but no one she'd spoken to
since then seemed to have seen it, so she had to presume it had
been taken down by the first cattleman to spot it. Perhaps even
Adam. But she was not going to let that stop her.

Deciding that the only way she could get the
word spread was by word of mouth, she walked up to the two men,
introduced herself as the owner and editor of
The Town
Tattler
—which the men seemed to already know—and proceeded to
tell them what Gene Crowder, and Ralph Cole, and Frank Buchanan had
told her. The men listened with rapt attention, then assured her
that they'd pass the word around. She offered to hold a Town
Tattler meeting where people could get together and discuss what
should happen next, but the men were too afraid for their families,
and declined her offer.

The men had just left the store when a black
man, dressed in farmer's clothes, walked in.

Mr. Redman, who'd been sweeping the floor,
leaned the broom handle against the wall again and went to stand
behind the counter. "Hello, Seth," he said. "Haven't seen you in a
while. Sorry to hear about your mule." Mr. Redman shook his head in
dismay. "After the hanging, folks are fed up with what's going on,
and they're arming themselves, ready to protect what's theirs."

"That's what ah'm doin'," Seth said. "Ah
don't even like leavin' the missus and my young'uns home alone, so
ah'll just get what ah need and be on my way."

"I suppose you came for hog feed?" Mr. Redman
said.

"No," Seth replied, shaking his head. "A sack
of grain for my mule."

Mr. Redman looked at Seth, curious. "A mule
must have set you back some."

Seth shook his head. "No. Ah'll be paying off
Mule when ah sell some hogs."

"Then you must have mortgaged your
place?"

"Didn't have to," Seth said. "A man come by
and said Mule was mine to keep, and ah could pay him if ah wanted,
but didn't have to. He's the rancher runnin' for mayor."

"Lord Whittington?" Mr. Redman said, clearly
surprised.

As was Priscilla, who stopped reading the
label on the mash in the barrel in front of her and looked at the
men.

"He's the one," Seth said. "He just showed up
at my doorstep with Mule and said he wanted to give him to me."

Mr. Redman stroked his chin. "That doesn't
make sense. Why would Lord Whittington give a homesteader a mule?"
He glanced at the front window of the store and the impressive
brick building across the street. "He's right in with the thick of
them at the Cheyenne Club," he said. "I see him coming out from
there with those men all the time."

Seth shrugged. "Ah don’t rightly know why he
did it," he said. "but he did. My missus isn't so happy though.
Thinks there's somethin' brewin'."

"I can't say as I blame her," Mr. Redman
said. "There just seems to be no logical reason why a cattleman
would give you a mule for no reason at all."

"That's what my missus says. But then ah
heard that Lord Whittington gave a roll of barbed wire to Jack
Lewis, after a couple of Lord Whittington's boys tore down Jack's
fence. And Lord Whittington had his boys string the fence up for
Jack."

"You're still talking about Lord
Whittington?" Mr. Redman said, brows gathered in uncertainty, while
stroking his chin.

"It was him all right," Seth said. "And he
told Jack he didn't want nothin' for his trouble. It's like he's
goin' around fixin' what them other cattlemen are breakin'."

Priscilla dumped a scoop of laying mash into
a bag and stepped to the counter. Eyeing the man named Seth, she
said, "How long ago was it that Lord Whittington came to your place
and gave you the mule?"

Seth rolled his eyes upward while
contemplating, and said, "A month... maybe five weeks ago. Can't
rightly remember. But Mule's a fine animal. Ah'm much obliged to
Lord Whittington. And my missus and me plan to pay him back when we
can."

Priscilla thought about that. Adam had never
said anything to her about helping out homesteaders. It didn't make
sense, him quietly helping out like that, almost as if he didn't
want it to get out. And the barbed wire fence... Another puzzle.
She was all but certain that Tom Rafferty and the cowboy Trudy
referred to as Tanner tore down the fence and dragged it off, but
Adam apparently took care of that as well, also without saying
anything to her. Yet, she was certain that Adam was behind having
her printing press smashed. She'd assume he'd done it to protect
the interest of the cattlemen. Now, she wasn't so sure.

Maybe she'd misjudged Adam. Maybe he truly
was worried about her safety if she published a scathing editorial
against the stockmen who'd hanged two people. But in smashing her
printer, Adam had effectively shut down her printing operation for
good because the printing press could not be fixed, and she didn't
have the money to buy another press, and without receiving the
money from the subscriptions and advertisements she had running,
she wouldn't be able to pay the mortgage on the building, and she'd
have to let it go back to the bank...

Unless Jim could identify Adam's men as those
who smashed her press under Adam's direct orders—which appears to
be what happened. Then she could sue Adam in court and force him to
replace her printing press and compensate her for her loss of
income from the business and for the loss of her building, if it
went back to the bank.

***

When Priscilla marched into the library,
where Adam was going over paperwork in preparation for his new
business venture, and slammed the door behind herself with uncommon
force, Adam knew a very heated confrontation was coming. He was
surprised that she hadn't come storming in
before
this, but
was relieved that she hadn't because it gave him time to get his
business deals in order before facing her wrath, which he intended
to turn into passion before they were done. But this time it would
take more than simply pulling her into his arms and kissing his way
down her neck and unbuttoning her bodice and pleasuring her in the
way he knew she liked. She was seething with rage, and he'd make
sure she got it all out of her system before attempting to mollify
her, or reason with her, because he wanted her to be receptive to
what he planned to propose to her afterwards.

"I've been expecting you," he said, offering
a bland smile. "I'm glad you came."

Glaring at him, arms folded across her ample
bosom, fingers tapping against her small bicep, she said, with
derision, "You're glad I came? That's interesting, considering that
fact that you have now destroyed any hope I have of putting out
The Town Tattler
. Permanently!" She pressed her lips
together in disgust while waiting for his reply.

"I know it seems that way," Adam said,
innocuously, "but there's an explanation."

"I'm sure, from your point of view, there
is." Uncrossing her arms, she flattened her palms on his desk,
pressing her long slender fingers against the smooth wood surface,
leaned toward him so she could look directly at him, and said in a
clipped tone, "I know you gave Seth Watkins a mule, and I know you
had two of your boys put up the fence to replace the one they tore
down at Jack Lewis's place—presumably Tom Rafferty and the man
named Tanner who was with him that night—but you also had your men
smash my printer and there's no way I can afford another one, and
without
The Town Tattler
going out I'll have to repay
subscribers, and I won't be able to pay the mortgage on my
building, and I might as well pack up and leave...
If I had
enough money to go back east!"

She stood straight again, thrust her arms
together across her chest and glared at him.

Adam stood and came around the desk. But when
he reached for Priscilla's shoulders, she jerked her arms to shake
him off, and backed away from him. "Don't touch me!" she hissed.
"We are absolutely through now! I have just come from seeing a
lawyer, and I'll be suing you in court for destroying my printing
press. Jim identified one of your men as one of the two cowboys who
came into my building and tied him up and took a sledge hammer to
my press, and you can't deny it. Well, you can, but you'd be lying.
But then maybe that isn't too difficult for you to do, since you
have no problem
destroying other people's property!"
Her
voice shot up, her face flushed, and her eyes grew misty with
rage.

"But you just said that I gave Seth Watkins a
mule and had my boys string up a new fence for Jack Lewis, so I
can't be all bad," Adam said. He smiled at her then, to soften her
up, but she glared at him in return, lips pressed tightly together
in anger.

She sucked in a deep breath, making her
crossed arms rise with her expanding chest, while drawing his
attention to what was beneath her crossed arms, which seemed to
infuriate her. "You needn't look at me there, Adam, because you
won't find your hands or your lips there ever again." She paused to
attempt to catch her breath as her face grew scarlet, and the
pupils in her eyes dilated, and her tongue came out to moisten her
lips, which parted to capture more air in an attempt to steady her
erratic breathing.

And Adam knew she was thinking exactly what
he was thinking. "You don't believe a word of what you just said,"
he commented, resisting the urge to smile because she was so
completely transparent in her feelings and the fact that she wanted
him to strip off her clothes and do the things he'd described. And
he would before long, which he assured her by saying, "But we'll
take that up later, when you're ready to reason with me."

"Reason with you about what?" she spat,
flattening her palms against her breasts as if to protect herself
from what she wanted most at the moment.

"I won't attempt to pleasure you right now,"
Adam said, taking her hands from her chest and holding them. To his
surprise, she didn't try free her hands, but allowed him to hold
them.

"I have no idea what your motivation was for
giving the mule to Mr. Watkins or fixing Jack Lewis's fence," she
said, continuing to allow him to hold her hands, "other than you
might have thought someone would learn that your cowboys were
behind both incidents, and would know that they'd done it by your
orders. But you had no right to shut down my newspaper, and you
know it." Her eyes darkened, and she slipped her hands out of his
then, seeming to have regained some of her earlier anger and
resolve.

"I'm not an unjust man," Adam said, moving
toward her. "Men I once believed were good men used underhanded
means to promote their own self-interests, and I was just trying to
make things right by replacing Seth Watkin's mule and fixing Jack
Lewis's fence. I intended to, at a later date, take it up with the
men who'd done it. Which I did."

"What do you mean?" Priscilla asked, while
eyeing him with a blend of skepticism and curiosity. "Have the men
agreed to pay you for the mule and the fence?"

"No," Adam said, "but from now on they're
going to be closely watched and held accountable for their
actions." He reached out and took her by the shoulders, and this
time she didn't back away, but stood looking up at him,
expectantly, as if waiting for him to kiss her, which he would when
he finished explaining their future to her.

"How do you plan to do that," she asked,
raising her lips slightly, a clear invitation.

Deciding instead to fan the embers of her
passion so she'd deny him nothing when he was through outlining his
plan for them, he said, "I'll be selling the ranch and moving into
this house and starting a newspaper that will oppose and expose the
cattlemen in the Stock Grower's Association and what goes on behind
the closed doors at the Cheyenne Club. I'll be calling our
newspaper the
Plainsmen Review
, and it will be in support of
the homesteaders."

Priscilla's lips parted to accommodate her
rapid breaths, and she said, "You said our newspaper. Is there
someone joining you in this enterprise?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, and pecked her once on the
mouth.

"Oh," she replied, running her tongue over
her lips. "Will you still be running for mayor then?" she said,
moving closer, inviting him to kiss her again.

"Do you want me to?" he asked, obliging her
wishes, this time a tad longer.

"Well... I don't know," she said, her eyes
clearly focused on his lips, he noted.

"Then I'll decide for you," he said, smiling
at her eagerness to get on with what he was subtly doing, deciding
to make her wait a little longer. "I plan to withdraw my candidacy
so I can focus on the paper. I've made an offer on a large building
that can be converted into an edifice for the newspaper. We could
have the place renovated, and printing equipment brought in from
the east, and the paper up and running in a month."

Priscilla looked up at him, curious. "You
still haven't said who the we are."

"No, I suppose I haven't," Adam said, kissing
her again, long enough for her to curve her hands around his neck
and open her mouth to allow him to kiss her thoroughly. But he
broke the kiss to add, "Do you have any objection to my selling the
ranch?"

"All I have an objection to right now, Adam,
is that you keep tempting me with your kisses, then stopping, and
I'm getting very frustrated."

"Good," Adam said, and kissed her again,
three little pecks that brought her eyes dilating and her lips
pressing together in irritation when he pulled away.