Stands a Calder Man (34 page)

Franz Kreuger had watched them ride up, and his eyes darkened with a brooding resentment. “Do you see how these ranch men never come to town alone?” He addressed the remark to his fellow homesteaders. “They know that our numbers are greater than theirs. So why do we make such small complaints when their cattle get into our fields and damage our crops? We must be more ready to defend what is ours. My neighbor, Stefan Reisner, stood up to them. Right was on his side and there was nothing they could do about it. We must be prepared to do as he did, or the harassment will continue.”

Kreuger made no effort to keep his voice down. Pieces of his remarks drifted to Webb as he helped Ruth out of the buggy, enough for him to get the gist of it. It was becoming apparent that Kreuger was a troublemaker, the instigator of much of the ill will between the factions.

When Webb approached the homesteaders with Ruth on his arm, his gaze was directed at Kreuger. He touched a finger to his hat in a challenging salute. “Hello, Kreuger. Gentlemen.” His greeting was curt, but silence might have indicated he was intimidated. There was no response from Kreuger, not even a nod, but Webb hadn't expected one.

Inside the store, he was checking out a new spool of barbed wire the clerk was touting to be the best on the market when he happened to glance out the front window just as the Reisner wagon passed by. Webb had
a brief glimpse of Lilli sitting very erectly on the wagon seat; then she was gone from his view. The urge was strong to leave the store and go after her, just for a closer look, but he fought it down. Yet knowing she was in town tested his self-imposed stricture to stay away from her.

After he'd made the necessary purchases at the hardware store, Webb stood on the sidewalk and watched the supplies being loaded in the wagon. Unwillingly he noticed the Reisner wagon parked at the smithy's, but neither Lilli nor her husband was in sight. It was just as well, he told himself.

Ruth came up to him. “It's nearly noon. Why don't we have something to eat at the restaurant?”

Tense and determined not to give in to his nerves, Webb hesitated, then agreed a little gruffly. “It sounds like a good idea.” He hailed the slim cowboy sprawled on the buckboard seat with his feet propped on the kickboard. “Nate. See that everything's loaded in the wagon. I'm taking Ruth across the street to the road-house.”

“Gotcha, Webb.” Nate sat up in the seat to take interest in what was being loaded behind him.

With a guiding hand at Ruth's waist, he escorted her across the busy cross traffic of horse-drawn vehicles and skirted the animal droppings to the building on the opposite side of the street. The noise of people, animals, and vehicles was constant.

“I think I liked this town better when there weren't so many people,” Ruth murmured.

Webb glanced down at her, just for a moment allowing his thoughts to be distracted. He saw her unease at so many unfamiliar and unfriendly faces. “It would never occur to you to speak to a stranger, would it?” he observed somewhat wryly, because it would have been as unnatural for Ruth as it had been natural for Lilli.

“No,” she replied as if any other answer were unthinkable.

As he opened the door to the restaurant for Ruth, he
happened to glance up the street. Lilli was just entering the general store with her husband. There was no indication that she'd noticed him. Webb was a step late following Ruth into the restaurant.

They had their pick of several empty tables, and Webb chose one off by itself. He was restless with thoughts of Lilli throughout the meal, offering short responses to Ruth's attempts at conversation until she finally became silent.

It was no good, he realized. He was only fooling himself if he believed he could be in the same town as Lilli without somehow managing to see her and speak to her. In the two glimpses he'd had of her, she bad appeared aloof and reserved, traits not natural to her. Perhaps he was only imagining that, but—

Ruth was seated on his right. Webb set his fork down and reached over to cover her hand. “Ruth, I have a favor to ask,” he declared huskily, caught in the vortex of his own wants.

The intense probe of his dark gaze, as much as the touch of his roughly callused hand, made its impact on Ruth. She felt the swelling lift of her spirits, the acceleration of her pulse. If he only knew, she'd die for him if he asked her.

“Anything.” She ignored the tiny little voice that gave away her eagerness to please.

“I'd like you to arrange for me to meet privately with a . . . certain young woman.” He had difficulty getting the words out.

Ruth looked at her plate, a shattering pain destroying that fragile bubble of hope. “Lilli,” she guessed in a trembling murmur.

Webb became still. He slowly removed his hand and picked up the fork he'd laid down. “Yes,” he admitted in a low, flat voice. “How did you know her name?”

“When . . . you were unconscious, I heard you say it.” It was a soft reply, filled with hesitance and hurt.

“Do you know who she is?”

“Yes.” Ruth lowered her head.

It eliminated the need for an explanation, which
should have made it easier. Yet Webb felt twisted by a knotting tension. “There isn't anyone else I can ask, Ruth,” he said. “I've got to talk to her. I've got to find out if she's all right.”

“I don't see how I can arrange it.” She inwardly railed at the unfairness of his request.

“I saw Lilli going into the general store before we came in here. She's probably still there.” As crowded as the store had appeared, it was a good chance. “Ellis never locks the rear door. I can slip into the back room without being seen. All you have to do is make some excuse for her to go back there.” He looked at her. “Will you do it?”

“Yes.” Ruth made the bitter discovery that she could refuse him nothing, even at the cost of her own heartbreak.

When she entered the store, Ruth wanted to turn around and run out again, but she made herself move forward, her fingers nervously twisting the strings of her reticule. Her face was pale and taut as her darting glance skipped over the many customers inside, strangers nearly all of them.

“Is there something I can help you with, Miss Stanton?” The proprietor's voice startled her.

“No,” she answered too quickly. “I. . . I'm just looking.”

“The material you ordered has arrived. I have it in the back room. Would you like me to get it for you?” he asked.

And find Webb back there? Her heart fluttered wildly in panic. “No, please—” She strained to speak in a calmer tone. “I'd like to look around first. I'll collect it later.”

“Certainly.” He smiled politely. “If you'll excuse me, I have some other customers.”

“Of course.” Her breathing leveled off to a more normal rate.

She waited until he had moved away before resuming her search of the store. Maybe the woman had left and
she would be spared this, Ruth hoped. But it was not to be, she realized as she spied the woman examining some yard goods.

A tiny rebellious seed tried to grow when Ruth made her approach, but it was quickly suppressed by her promise to Webb. She saw the flash of recognition in the dark blue eyes, an awareness that they'd met although not spoken; then her glance was quickly averted.

Ruth was not practiced in the subtleties of deception. If she took too much time to think about what she had to say, she might not say anything at all. “Would you come into the back room with me?” She blurted the request with nervous quickness. The stunned look she received in response made Ruth realize she needed an excuse. “To look at some material I ordered. I have more than I need and I thought—”

“I can't really afford to buy any,” her rival replied. “I was only looking at this . . . dreaming, you know.”

“Would you come in the back room and look at what I have? It's just right through that curtain.”

Puzzled by the blonde woman's obvious agitation and air of urgency, it suddenly occurred to Lilli that the woman might have something to tell her about Webb. It became imperative that she find out.

“All right,” Lilli agreed.

As they reached the curtained opening, Ruth started to lift the material aside when the sharp-eyed proprietor saw them. “Is there something I can get you ladies?”

Ruth was guiltily quick with her answer. “No, I was just going to show her the material I ordered. You did say it was back here?”

“Yes, but I'll be more than happy to bring it out to you,” he offered.

“You're busy,” Ruth insisted nervously. “We're just going to take a quick peek before we finish our shopping.”

One of the other clerks called to Ollie Ellis, requiring
his assistance, so he didn't persist. “It's on the right-hand side as you enter, the second shelf.”

“Thank you,” Lilli said and ducked around the curtain to follow the blond-headed woman into the dim storeroom. “What is it you wanted?” she asked, cutting through any motions of looking at material.

The woman didn't answer except to turn slightly and look into the far corner where sunlight filtered through the dirty panes of a high window. Something moved. Lilli unconsciously stiffened, instinct already telling her who was there.

What light reached the corner broke against the ebony-dark surfaces of Webb's eyes and cast strong shadows under his jaw and the exposed hollow at the base of his throat. Tall and wide in the shoulders, he was narrow at the hips from the many hours in a saddle.

As they faced each other across the slanting light rays, Webb saw the pride and strong will that made her different from any other woman he'd known. Her head was thrown back and the dusty sunlight was picking up the subtle luster of her deep-copper hair. She was wearing a plain russet gown that flowed smoothly down the length of her straight, swinging body. He thought she was going to leave.

“Lilli.” The use of her name stayed her, although there was no lift, no urgency, in his low voice.

She appeared to change her mind and came slowly toward him. She stopped with her firm chin angled toward him. Her lips lay smoothly together, not smiling. Webb was conscious of the many disturbing things that kept them both silent.

“Why are you here?” she asked in a lowered voice.

“I had to see you. I had to find out for myself whether you were all right, whether he had mistreated you after—afterward.”

The strain began to show on her as she listened to the run of his voice and its repressed feelings. Neither was aware of Ruth fading into the background, a silent sentinel keeping watch with her back to them while the
low murmur of their voices added a multitude of little wounds.

“Stefan has done nothing to hurt me,” Lilli assured him at last. “You shouldn't be here.”

“I'm here. There's no good talking about it.” His voice was on the ragged edge of anger. “Wrong or not, wise or not, I had to see you—talk to you.”

When she looked at his face, she saw the hunger in his eyes, the reckless reason that had prompted him to arrange this clandestine meeting. It broke through the thin barrier that had held him motionless for so long. He gripped the points of her shoulders and pulled her against him, shutting off her faint cry with a kiss. Webb hadn't intended to be rough with her; he had meant to show her through his gentleness how deeply his feelings ran, but the claiming of her lips bred a desire for a wilder union. Lilli responded with her own rush of feelings. With their arms locked around each other, they swayed, pressing and straining, until Lilli finally slid her face to the side and drew away.

A sadness close to despair took the pride from her slim body and pressed her lips tightly together. The very thing that had driven her out of his arms pushed her back to them, curling her head against his chest. Webb held her loosely, shattered by her terrible, quiet crying.

“Lilli, I asked you once to leave him—”

She pulled back and lifted her chin. Webb had an instant to see the unguarded longing in her eyes before her loyalty intervened to take it from him. “I won't,” she dully repeated her previous refusal.

“I've got to be able to see you now and then,” he insisted roughly. “We can arrange something—”

“No.” She shook her head firmly, rejecting his proposal with no hesitation. “I won't meet you like this again.”

It angered him that she could show so little feeling. “I'm letting you stay with another man. All I'm asking is to see you.” Dryness rustled through his voice. “You can't possibly love me as much as I love you.”

“There are only two people in my life who matter,” she returned quietly. “You and Stefan. The last time we were together, you were nearly killed and Stefan was broken. I couldn't endure that again.” She looked at him with a resigned sadness. “You are young, Webb. You can forget me and find another woman to love. Stefan is an old man.”

“You've finally recognized that,” he muttered tersely, attacking the only thing he could.

“Good-bye.” She was already moving away. Before he could stop her, she was on the other side of the curtain. Webb turned back, his shoulders sagging, and glanced bleakly at Ruth. She lifted a hand toward him, but he brushed it aside as he left through the back door.

The locomotive chugged at intervals in the Blue Moon station while it took on more water and its freight was unloaded. A keening north wind blew across the wide plains, dusted with dirty snow. Winter had its cold, blue hand on the sweep of Montana sky. Webb stood on the station platform with his parents, his collar turned up against the wind and his hat pulled low.

“I still don't know how you managed to get him to agree to this trip, Mother.” There was a faint twinkle in his eyes as he smiled at the slight figure she made, wrapped in the warmth of a fur, with a jaunty little hat adorning her silver hair.

“Hush, Webb. You don't need to give him any ideas about backing out,” she admonished in jest, then sighed and gazed at her husband. “I doubt it was the letter I received from my mother, letting me know my father wasn't well. It's that bull he heard about. It's always cattle.”