Solitary Horseman (3 page)

Callum shifted in the saddle and a spear of sunlight glanced over Banner, making her eyes glitter and her hair shine. Damn, if she wasn’t a fine looking gal, even frowning at him like she’d just bitten into a lemon. He reined in those thoughts and urged Butter into a fast trot home.

###

“That’s the most piss-poor, lame-brained idea that was ever hatched!” Seth Latimer’s expression was the equivalent of a thundercloud as he glared at Callum. “Why in tarnation do we want Payne scum hanging around our place, day in and day out?”

“She’s a damn fine cook and her house is as clean as a hound’s tooth. But better than that, our herd gets to drink from Mossy Springs and we don’t have to waste time digging more wells and hauling water.” Callum propped his boots on the porch railing and watched a star streak across the black velvet sky. He’d dreaded this particular discussion all damn day.

“Forty percent? What were you thinking? We should take seventy and she should kiss our white asses!”

“Pa,” Callum admonished.

“You heard me. What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” Callum sent him a steely sideways glare, not liking the inference that he’d taken leave of his senses. “I made a deal that will benefit everyone – and some Northerner won’t be able to grab the Payne land for a fraction of what it’s worth.”

“We got enough land.”

“Adding hers to it won’t be a hardship. I’m going into town tomorrow for supplies and I’ll hire some more hands while I’m there.”

“What supplies?”

“Flour, meal, sugar, molasses, rice, beans. I want her to be able to whip up some good tasting grub.” He ignored his father’s snort of contempt. “I figure three more cowhands ought to do it. She has Hollis and two others . . . but I’m aiming to tell those two to hit the trail.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re no good, thieving sonsofbitches. I’ve a mind to turn their sorry hides over to the sheriff. But I don’t have proof. Just my gut feeling.”

“You think they took her market money.”

“Yes, sir. And I think they’re stealing cattle and anything else lying around loose.”

“Who we talking about?”

“Jeb Johnson and Russell Baines.” He scowled up at the night sky, remembering how the two men couldn’t look him in the eyes. They’d snickered to each other like someone had told a joke and they’d talked to Hollis like he was a nattering child instead of a boss issuing orders. Callum had seen them before at a couple of meetings in town. They were friendly with Eller, which gave him even more concern.

“Hollis and his sister have let them steal and kept them on? They don’t have a decent brain between them.”

“Hollis isn’t cut out to boss anyone,” Callum noted. “Now more than ever.” Even before the war, Hollis had been the quiet, bookish Payne boy, who kept to himself, memorized poetry, and followed his pa around like a puppy. He’d served well in the war, fighting in and surviving some major battles because he took orders like a champ. “As for his sister, I think they have her over a barrel. She’s out there alone and I reckon she hasn’t told them to vamoose because she’s afraid of what they’d do in retaliation.”

“What happened to Malcom DeWitt?”

“Died last winter.”

“I didn’t hear-tell of that. Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen him around in a long time.” He shifted on the hard seat. “Anyways, it’s a bad idea. I won’t have that gal here.”

“She’ll be here Monday.”

“You deaf, son?”

“Monday.” Callum closed his eyes and wished he could close his ears to the spate of blue language his father aimed at him. His stomach growled and directed his thoughts to the splendid breakfast he’d eaten that morning. It would be the last edible meal he’d get until she made breakfast again – here in his kitchen. “Monday,” he whispered on a sigh.

###

“You joshing with me?” Hollis asked, staring wide-eyed across the supper table at Banner.

“Nope. I’m as serious as a preacher on Easter Sunday.”

“I won’t have you lowering yourself to cook and clean for the likes of them.”

“I won’t mind that work one bit if it means keeping this place – and that’s what it means, Hollis. We won’t lose this ranch. At least, not this year. Callum Latimer threw us a lifeline, I grabbed onto it, and I’m not letting go.”

“Hell’s bells and peanut shells, I surely don’t know what to make of this.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And he says he’s giving you sixty percent of what we get for the cattle?”

“That’s the deal.” She could hardly believe that part of it, too.

Hollis screwed up his face. “What’s he up to, I wonder? You think he’s working on a way to steal this place out from under us?”

She rolled her eyes. “Now just how would he accomplish that? Hollis, they’re helping us and we’re helping them.” She reached across the table and placed her hand on his. His knuckles were rough and scarred. “Let’s count our blessings.”

“Since when have the Latimers
ever
been kind to us or helped us? I don’t trust Cal or his pa.”

“Then we will keep our eyes peeled. Okay? If you see something underhanded, you let me know.”

“So, he’ll be my boss?”

“Don’t think of it like that. He’s hiring more men.”

“With what? We can’t even pay—”

“I told you, Hollis, he’s handling the payroll.” Another point she had trouble comprehending. Was cooking and tending to his father worth such a price to Callum? For the life of her, she couldn’t fathom any other reason behind it. Hollis was right. The Latimers had never given them anything but their backs and backtalk. But times were difficult for everyone in Texas and throughout the South. Even for the high and mighty Latimers.

Suddenly, Hollis chuckled. A sound she rarely heard these days.

“What’s got you tickled?”

“I was just thinking . . . if looks could kill, Johnson and Baines would be dead. Cal always did have a way of cussing you out with his eyes. The once-over he gave them . . .” He paused to chuckle again. “It’s a wonder they didn’t shrivel up like t ‘baccer leaves.”

Maybe he’ll kick their sorry butts.
Banner brought herself up short at that uncharitable thought, but then refused to be apologetic for it. Johnson and Baines made her skin crawl, and without Malcolm around to ensure that they were working instead of loafing, they were about as useful as teats on a boar.

“I dunno . . .” Hollis ran a hand down his long face. “I’m not sure I like it.”

“We’re doing it, like it or not. Callum Latimer is going to be the ranch boss and you know he’ll get good work out of everyone and keep the cattle we have safe. If he does that much, we can consider ourselves blessed.”

“What if he tries something with you?”

“W-what?” She gave him a chiding smile. “Hollis, please. A Latimer making honey with me? Be serious.”

“He might try to force himself on you.”

She patted her brother’s hand. “He doesn’t have to force himself on any woman. He’s a good-looking man and I know at least a dozen gals who would drop their hankies and other garments if he showed them any attention.”

“Even you?”

Her heart stuttered and she pressed her fist between her breasts. Baffled by the reaction, she realized she was shaking her head. She forced out a laugh. “I declare, Hollis Payne, you are winding me up! Now, get on with you. I have dishes to wash and a kitchen to set right.”

Hollis made his way out to the porch while Banner set to scrubbing dishes, pots, and utensils. She bit her lip as her brother’s question circled in her mind. Callum Latimer showing an interest in her? Ridiculous idea! He wouldn’t. Never in a million years!

To think . . !

She’d noticed that his eyes had light green streaks in them. Verdant green and olive. Dark and light. Like the man himself. He could be brusque and disapproving, but also kind and considerate. She scraped her teeth over her lower lip. To think . . .

Mary Killdeer arrived on Banner’s first day after breakfast when Banner was tackling the pile of dirty dishes. Catching sight of the woman hovering in the doorway, Banner smiled and pushed a damp strand of hair off her forehead with the back of her wrist.

“Good morning! We haven’t formally met, but I’ve seen you around town. I’m Banner Payne. Do you go by Miss Killdeer or Mrs. Echohawk?”

“Mary.” She didn’t smile, but her dark brown eyes twinkled. “That’s what everyone here calls me.”

“Then I insist that you call me Banner.” She swiped at the errant curl again. “It’s been quite a morning! I had fifteen starving men in here a few minutes ago and I barely prepared enough food to satisfy them. Flint . . . I think that’s his name . . . yes, Flint. He licked the gravy bowl clean!” She laughed, recalling the white-bearded man’s antics before turning back to the big tub full of water, soap suds, and dishes.

“They don’t like my cooking.”

Banner glanced over her shoulder, a ready admonishment on her lips, but Mary’s pleasant expression stayed it.

“Fine by me.” Mary shrugged her rounded shoulders. “Never hired on here as a cook anyway.”

“Oh, no?”

“No. I said I’d help out where I could after the missus died.”

“Oh, yes. I remember Lacy Latimer.” Very well, Banner thought with a sardonic lift of one brow. The woman had never looked at her without giving a little sniff of disapproval. “She passed on . . . how many years has it been?”

Mary glanced up at the rafters in a moment of concentration. “Four. Word came of Maxwell’s death on the battlefield and she took to bed. Never was herself after that. Always sickly. Always weak and didn’t want to eat. Got word about Harrison and she was dead within a week.”

Even though Mrs. Latimer had never shown her a moment of tenderness or kindness, Banner felt a stab of sympathy for the woman. Losing two sons – sons she’d clearly adored – had been too much for her. She’d heard similar stories about women who were shadows of their former selves after their beloved menfolk had fallen in battle. She focused on the dishes again as Mary sauntered closer.

“You gather eggs yet?”

“I haven’t. There was a basketful on the counter here when I arrived.”

Mary nodded. “I put them there for you.”

Banner smiled. “Why, thank you, Mary. They’re all gone now.”

“I’ll go feed the chickens and pigs. I’ll check for eggs.” Mary went out the back door, humming softly.

Banner released a long breath, relieving some of her tension. She’d been worried about how Mary would receive her, but the woman seemed glad not to have to cook. Breakfast had been a whirlwind of men shoveling food into their mouths, making grunting noises, and then thanking her profusely when all the vittles were gone. It had seemed odd having Hollis, Johnson, and Baines sitting with Callum and his cowhands, but they’d all gotten along. She’d been relieved that Eller hadn’t made it to breakfast. She surmised that he took his meals at his own home with his wife.

The only sore spot was Seth Latimer. He’d sat at the head of the table like a puffed up toad and had scowled through the whole meal. He’d eaten, but had grumbled that the fried eggs, ham, sausage, gravy, fried potatoes and onions, and biscuits were “Zallright, I guess.” He’d laboriously made his way out to the porch where he had plopped himself down into a chair out there.

Watching him, Banner could see that his joints were turning to rock. He needed to move, no matter how bad it pained him, or he wouldn’t even be able to walk short distances any more. Of course, she couldn’t tell him this because he certainly wouldn’t listen to a word she uttered – other than “goodbye.” He would
love
to hear her say that!

A deal’s a deal, she recited to herself. When she’d awakened before dawn to get ready for her jaunt to the Latimer ranch, Hollis had muttered under his breath about how Callum could cheat them out of their money and their land and that they shouldn’t trust a Latimer with anything. She’d mulled that over on her ride to the Latimer spread. The fact was that she’d never heard an unfavorable word about Callum. He was respected in the county and beyond. Even Yankees were known to be polite to him.

The sound of a horse’s whinny drew her attention outside the window where a flashy sorrel wearing a saddle pocked with silver disks pawed at the ground. Squinting against the glare of that silver, she recognized the rider and held her breath for a few seconds. Eller Hawkins, Callum’s cousin. He removed his hat and whapped it against his thigh. A cloud of dust lifted from it. He ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair before he set the hat back on his head. He hadn’t changed all the much and she wondered if Lilah was as lovely as ever. Eller had married Lilah Farley, a blue-eyed blond who had been Callum’s arm adornment before she’d eloped with Eller. Talk was that she and Eller had caught “marching orders fever.” Six years later and they were still married, but childless. She’d heard that Lilah had suffered a couple of miscarriages and then a stillbirth last winter.

Deep in thought, she suddenly realized that she was staring right into Eller’s dark eyes. With a start, she looked down into the tub and scrubbed the pan she held as her face grew hot with embarrassment. She glanced up again and Eller lifted a hand and waved to her. Reluctantly, she lifted her soapy fingers and waved back. With a smirk, he reined the sorrel around and trotted away. Banner let go of her pent-up breath.

Cocky, lying coyote! What foolishness had he been spreading to have Callum think that they had been sweet on each other? She had
never
taken Eller’s advances seriously and she’d told him so. He’d tried to force himself on her two nights before he’d run off with Lilah. She’d had to slap his face to make him stop pawing her. He’d stormed away, accusing her of leading him on.

“You should be thankful that I care this much about you,”
he’d told her, angry tears glistening in his eyes.
“You’ll be sorry you turned me down. I’m the best man who will ever want under your skirts!”

Shoving the memory aside, she finished the wash-up so that she could do some housecleaning before getting ready for the next meal. Making quick work of drying the dishes and putting them away in the cupboard, Banner grabbed the broom and swept the big kitchen, which opened into an even larger dining room that was dominated by a long table with benches on each side of it. It reminded her of the tables she’d seen in boarding houses. The only other furniture in the room was a sideboard and a tall china cabinet that held an incomplete set of china. Several of the cups and plates bore chips and hairline cracks. Examining the pieces through the wavy glass in the cabinet doors, Banner suspected they were a family heirloom – probably from Lacy Latimer’s ancestors. Her pa had told her that Lacy had come from a well-to-do family in Scotland. They’d arrived in America shortly after her birth.

Funny how she knew more about Callum’s family than she did her own. She couldn’t say for the life of her from whence her own grandparents hailed or where her family had been before they’d settled in what was now Texas.

As she swept her way through the dining room and into the living room, it became apparent that the floors not only needed it, they also could use a good scrubbing. The place verged on being downright dirty. Had Mary ever mopped these floors? The Latimer house was three times the size of hers. Her brothers had all bunked in the same room and she had slept in a small loft while her parents had taken the only other bedroom, which was now hers. The Latimer boys, however, had separate rooms. There were four bedrooms, all told in the house. Four! Two of which now sat empty.

Seth’s rattling cough floated to her from the front porch. He was still ensconced in the big chair. He turned his head and let fly tobacco juice over the porch railing. Banner scowled. Disgusting habit. She made a mental note not to bother planting flowers around the porch. She stepped outside and swept bits of leaves and pebbles off the smooth, planked floor.

“Could I fetch you a glass of water, Mr. Latimer?” When he didn’t answer her, she glanced at him from beneath her lashes to find him staring straight ahead, stubbornly ignoring her. She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“If I could suit myself, you wouldn’t be here,” he grumbled.

“There’s some coffee left in the pot. I’d be happy to bring a cup of it out here to you.” Again, no response. She stopped sweeping and turned to face him. “Mr. Latimer, if you can find your tongue to lash out at me, surely you can find it to reply to my questions. Do you want a cup of coffee of not?”

“If I do, I’ll fetch it myself!”

“Good for you,” she said, evenly. “You should be moving about as much as possible. Otherwise, your joints will freeze up like a water trough on a January morning.” Not waiting for any retort or scowl he might offer, she went back into the house where there was plenty of work to keep her occupied. She took a few minutes to sit at the kitchen table and drink the last cup of coffee, allowing the pain from her still-tender hip to ease before she set to work again. Smiling as she recounted Seth’s surliness, she enjoyed every drop of the coffee because she knew that he wouldn’t come into the house for it. Once he made it to his chair on the porch, she figured that he was there until meal time.

Somehow, she would have to change that.

###

“How’s it going over there at the Latimer house?” Hollis put down the bridle he was repairing and looked quizzically at Banner.

She concentrated on applying small stitches to close a rip in one of her aprons. “Busy.”

“You’ve been there a whole week now, so how do you feel about the deal you struck with the devils now?”

“They’re not devils, Hollis. I’m fine with the deal so far. No complaints.”
Other than Seth Latimer being about as friendly as a bee-stung bear.
But Hollis didn’t need to know that.

“They all like your cooking.”

She smiled at the memories of compliments raining down on her. “Oh, yes. You and the other cowhands are like a pack of hungry wolves at each meal. Hardly any words are spoken. Y’all just sit down and start shoveling in food like you haven’t eaten for an age.” She laughed under her breath. “Even Callum.”

“What do you mean? Even Callum?”

“I don’t mean anything by it. It’s just that . . . well, he’s the boss and needs to set an example and—” She finished the mending and bit off the thread as neatly as she ended that particular thread of conversation. “How are things with the cattle?”

“Got more help now. That makes a difference in how much gets done.” He squinted at her across the room. “I get the feeling that Callum’s going to cut Johnson and Baines loose.”

“I believe that’s his plan.”

“He told you that?”

“He thinks they’re stealing our cattle.”

“What do you think?”

She held her brother’s gaze. “I think he’s right.”

Hollis widened his eyes. “Then why didn’t you fire them?”

“Because that would have left you and me to handle the herd and I figured they’d take them just to be spiteful.”

Hollis dropped his gaze and shook his head. “You believe I would have stood by and let that happen?”

“Hollis, what could you have done if they decided to stampede the herd and take off with them? You’re one man.”

“And not much of one anymore.”

She stood, agitated. “Hollis, you’re my rock. You know that don’t you? You’re the only person in this whole, wide world I can depend on and trust.”

“What about Cal Latimer?”

She blinked in confusion. “What about him?”

“You depend on him. You trust him.”

She smiled tenderly and moved to stand by his chair. Running a hand over his soft hair, she leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead. “I hardly know that man, Hollis. I’ve known you my entire life. Callum is a means to an end. You are my sweet brother and I love you.”

His big, hazel eyes grew misty. “You still love me?”

“Of course I do.” She kissed his crown where the hair grew in a swirl. “Never question that. I love you always and forever, Hollis Payne.” Giving his shoulder a pat, she left him to bank the fire in the stove. “Time for me to be in bed.”

“I’m heading that way myself.” He stood, stretching his long arms above his head and trailing his fingertips across the exposed rafters. “What does Mary Killdeer do there now that you’re cooking and cleaning?”

“She sees to the pigs, chickens, and goats and she works in the vegetable garden. She’s always busy. She helps me, too. Brings in water and empties the slop jars. That sort of thing.” As she talked, she walked to her bedroom. Pausing on the threshold, she glanced over her shoulder at Hollis. “Goodnight. Sleep tight.”

“I hope to.”

Sadness stole through her. Poor Hollis. Most nights he thrashed and wrestled with bad dreams. She dressed for bed and sighed expansively as she eased her tired body between the sheets. Tomorrow was Sunday – her day off from the Latimer ranch. After church, she’d clean the house and do laundry. By the time she arrived home every day from the Latimer spread, there wasn’t a lot of sunlight left for her to complete chores. She barely had enough time to unsaddle Pansy and feed her, see to the chickens and her three dogs, collect eggs, slop the hogs, and throw together a quick supper for her and Hollis.