Stands a Calder Man (44 page)

“Stefan was a good and faithful man. He deserved more than an adulterous tramp like you,” he jeered “You are what killed him.”

“You have been misinformed, Mr. Kreuger,” Lilli replied coolly. “It was typhoid fever.”

His glance swept her with disgust. “Because of you, he was ashamed to hold his head up among his friends. Now you come to town in your fine clothes and your ladylike airs, but no decent woman will speak to you.”

Aware that his voice was growing louder to deliberately attract the attention of his fellow homesteaders and publicly humiliate her, she made a determined effort to end this meeting. “Your opinions have been most interesting, Mr. Kreuger, but you'll have to excuse me. My husband is expecting me.” She tried to walk around him, but he wouldn't let her pass.

“You think because you marry a Calder, it makes you someone important,” he accused.

“I think nothing of the sort,” she denied on a vibrating note of temper. “Please get out of my way.”

“Ah, yes, you are meeting your husband somewhere.” His eyes took on an ugly glint. “The sidewalks are for decent, God-fearing people. Walk in the street—in the gutter where your kind of women belong.”

His voice rang out through the still air. A cold rage shook her, making every nerve in her body scream with tension. She wanted to hit out at him and slap his vile words down his throat, but she knew it would only please him.

“Perhaps I would find fewer braying jackasses on the street than I have on the sidewalk.” Her fury was so focused on him she was blind to everything else around her.

Suddenly there was a large hand on Kreuger's shoulder, spinning him around. Lilli had a short glimpse of the black rage on Webb's face before his cocked arm drove a fist into Kreuger's face and Franz went flying backward, sprawling onto the boardwalk next to her. Then Webb was grabbing her arm and roughly pulling her along with him as he turned to walk away.

He hadn't taken two steps when a body came hurtling at him from behind. The impetus carried both men onto the hard ground of the narrow alleyway between the two buildings. They scuffled in the dirt, rolling and twisting, trying for advantage over the other. Elbows and knees became weapons as Kreuger fought with savage cunning.

A crowd of onlookers jammed around Lilli, forming a ring to watch the fight. As she looked around the chain of faces, there wasn't a friendly one to be found. They were cheering for Kreuger, one of their own, shouting advice and encouragement. He was the underdog, smaller in size than Webb, but his quickness and strength made him an equal.

Kreuger slipped out of Webb's hold and was on his feet while Webb was halfway on his knees. He saw the booted toe coming and managed to block it with his
arm, the force of the kick slamming through his shoulder. Then he was catapulting himself upward, no longer underestimating his opponent. He swung a fist at the lowered face and caught Kreuger on the temple with a slanting blow.

It felt good—the fighting, the hitting, the sensation of blood pumping through his veins, cleaning out his system. His punches were reaching Kreuger, hitting his belly and his chest. The wind whistled through his lungs with the force he was throwing into his fists. A jarring set of knuckles rammed into his mouth as Kreuger knocked an arm aside and made an opening. His lip split against his teeth, pouring blood into his mouth. Another quick punch widened the cut and staggered Webb backward. He shook his head, clearing it of the roaring sound.

He waited for Kreuger to follow up the blow, and he came, springing like a cat for the kill. Webb stepped aside and lifted a knee, driving it forward into Kreuger's vitals. When his arms dropped in pain, Webb slammed a fist into his nose and heard the crunch of bone. A second swing tore out a chunk of flesh on Kreuger's forehead. Then he aimed low and heard the snap of rib bones.

He felt no mercy, aware that Kreuger would gouge out his eyes and kick in his face given the chance. The man's eyes were glassy and shining; his tongue was caught between his teeth. Webb closed his fingers in Kreuger's collar, holding him up when his legs would have collapsed.

“Stop it!” A pair of hands was clawing at him, hitting him, trying to break his hold. “Webb! Stop it! Let him go!”

Lilli's voice finally pierced the violent rage in his mind. His fingers loosened their grip on Kreuger's shirt as Webb staggered backward a step and let the man slide unconscious to the ground. The muscles in his body began to tremble, the blows they'd taken beginning to spread pain. He lifted a hand to his mouth and looked at the crimson wetness, realizing it was his
blood. The deep reach of his breathing was labored and rough.

Two overalled men were bending to help the fallen Kreuger. When Webb saw them, his glance went round to the circle of men, seeing the hostility and resentment in their faces when they met his look. He became conscious of Lilli holding tightly to his arm, facing the same looks with a wary defiance.

“Somebody better get a doctor for him.” His voice was a rasping sound as he gestured wearily toward Kreuger. Someone peeled away from the circle and went hurrying behind the roadhouse to the doctor's office. Webb turned his hard gaze on the group of men blocking the steps to the roadhouse restaurant. “Make way for my wife.” He challenged them to stand in her path as Kreuger had done.

For a moment, no one moved. Then there was a slight shuffling and shifting of position to make an opening for Lilli to pass. Webb freed his arm from her hold and shifted his hand to the back of her waist, guiding her toward the spot. She walked ahead of him, her shoulders squarely braced and her chin level. Tiredness was invading his limbs, but he followed her, meeting the looks of the men on either side.

When they were on the raised boardwalk of the roadhouse porch, he felt the heavy tension lifting from the air. Lilli opened the door to the restaurant, paused a second to be sure Webb was behind her, then walked in. He noticed the angry sparkle in her eyes and wondered at it.

“Sit at that table.” She issued the command to Webb, which he obeyed by pulling out a chair at the table she had indicated. Before he had lowered his body onto it, she was giving sharp orders to the waitress to bring a basin of hot water and a cloth so she could clean and doctor his cuts. Webb was amused at the way she had everyone scurrying to do her bidding, intimidating them with her dictatorial attitude, but when he tried to smile, the action pulled at the long cut on his upper lip and started it bleeding again.

When everything had been delivered to the table, she began cleaning his small wounds. The touch of her hands was gentle, but Webb sensed the repressed anger that smoldered in her eyes. He watched her while she dabbed so carefully at his split lip, her concentration focusing on her task. Since Lilli was responsible for stopping the fight, Webb supposed she was upset because it had occurred at all. He attempted to explain the necessity for his violent action.

“If I had let him get by with treating you like that, there would have been no end to it, Lilli.” His words were slightly muffled by her continued ministrations to the cut on his mouth. “He brought the fight to me. If I hadn't finished it—”

“I know,” she interrupted with a sharp acknowledgment of his reasons, which puzzled him more.

“I thought you were angry because I fought him,” he said.

“I am.” She rinsed out the cloth with brisk motions. “I wish I could have hit him. I wish I could have beat him up.” Her voice was thick with anger. “It's the first time in my life I ever wished I was a man.”

His look became thoughtful, but he hid it behind a light remark. “I'm glad you're not.”

She paused, a hint of concern lurking in her eyes. “I probably shouldn't have stopped you, Webb. You don't know Franz Kreuger the way I do. He's the one that goaded Stefan into shooting you. If he hadn't been there that morning, it wouldn't have occurred to Stefan to react like that. I'm sure of it.”

“That's in the past. We weren't going to look back, remember?” Webb saw the tension in her face before she made a weak attempt at a smile in response.

“I remember,” she said, but silently reminded herself that it was not possible.

“Did you finish your shopping?” He changed the subject.

“Yes.” It seemed so long ago since she had supervised the loading of her purchases. Lilli tried to summon some of her previous enthusiasm to assure Webb
that everything was all right, when she knew it wasn't. “I found some blue material to make into a dress for Ruth's wedding. I hope you'll like it.”

His forefinger pressed against the cut on his lip, as if testing the degree of pain it caused, but the frown that creased his forehead didn't come from that. “I hope Ruth knows what she's doing.”

Her glance sharpened on him. “You sound as if you don't approve of Virgil Haskell marrying her.”

His mouth slanted in a wry line that didn't aggravate the cut. “Does any man approve of his sister's choice for a husband?” Webb countered.

“I suppose not.” Lilli understood that Webb regarded Ruth Stanton as being family, so the reference to Ruth as a sister didn't surprise her.

The door to Sonny's place opened and Sheriff Potter crowfooted in. He spied Webb and angled toward his table. Taking his time, he removed his hat and used the seconds to warily take in Webb's battered knuckles and bruised features.

“I got called over to the doc's,” he said. “Kreuger's got a busted nose and some broke ribs. He ain't a pretty sight, but he's all right.”

Webb let the information settle and made no comment. Whatever was on the sheriffs mind, it would be said without any prompting from Webb. He had no intention of defending his reason for the fight or his winning of it.

“The town's hired me to keep the peace,” Potter stated. “I don't like trouble.”

“That makes two of us,” Webb stated. “But Kreuger seems to have a penchant for it. So don't talk to me about it.”

Potter listened to Calder's voice, not caring about the words, but catching the certainty of the tone. The fight was spilt milk as far as he was concerned. The doc was cleaning up one and Calder's bride of a month was wiping up the other. But the badge he wore on his shirt meant he was obliged to make an appearance in the name of law and order. Potter had his own version of
his responsibilities. In the long run, it was safer and cheaper to let men settle their own differences. As long as nothing was stolen, and women and children weren't harmed, it wasn't any of his affair. He'd learned that justice had a way of asserting itself. It was a lot easier than trying to figure out for himself who was right and who was wrong.

“I'll be speaking to him,” Potter said, meaning Kreuger. He glanced at Calder's bride, fully aware she had been married to Kreuger's best friend, and made his own guesses about the cause of the fight. He nodded to her politely. “G'day to you, ma'am.” With a total lack of haste, he put his hat back on and walked to the door.

Ruth's wedding took place shortly after the New Year. The simple ceremony was held at The Homestead, with the ranch families in attendance. Ruth was white and trembling as she made her vows. Her eyes were dry, all the tears shed months ago. Later, when Webb congratulated her, she even managed to smile.

A winter wedding was the perfect excuse for the cowboys to cut loose and celebrate, making Ruth's wedding day and evening anything but quiet. Despite the cold and snow, she and her new husband were shivareed by the rowdy and celebrating ranch hands that came to drag them out of the house they would be sharing with her father and parade them through the wintry night. Lilli and several other of the wives had prepared refreshments for the occasion, so it was well after midnight before the party broke up.

Ruth was certain it had been the longest day of her life. The gold band on her finger still felt strange and cold. She glanced at Virg as he shut the door on the last of his friends, and knew she was cheating him. Her gaze dropped when he looked at her, and she began a busy attempt to straighten up the room.

“The place is a mess,” she murmured when he came up and took hold of her hands to stop her.

“You'll have plenty of time to clean it tomorrow,” he
insisted. “I think we should follow your father's example and call it a night.”

She glanced at the door to her father's bedroom where he'd gone more than twenty minutes before. When Virg began to lead her to the door of the second bedroom—their bedroom—she didn't resist. It was a small room, barely large enough for the big feather bed and the mirrored dresser.

When Virg's hold on her hand loosened, Ruth pulled it free and walked to the mirror to take down her hair and fix it in a braid the same way she'd done it a thousand nights before. Only this time, she wouldn't be going to bed alone with her dreams about Webb. She would be sharing the bed with her husband. She watched his reflection in the mirror as he loosened the knot of his tie. There wasn't any room for regrets, not anymore.

While she mechanically brushed her pale blond hair, Ruth studied the leanly muscled man removing his suit jacket. He stretched his neck to unfasten the boiled collar of his white shirt and glanced her way. His gaze met the reflection of hers in the mirror, and he paused to study her with a possessive intensity.

“It's a rare feeling to look at you and know you are Mrs. Virgil Haskell.” Then he smiled, a little at himself and at the idea. She caught the glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “I'm a married man now, with a wife to think about . . . and someday, a family. It makes a man look at things differently.”

“What do you mean?” Since he seemed to expect a response from her, Ruth made one. She had learned it was easier to ask questions than to make statements. It encouraged Virg to talk so she didn't have to do much of it herself.

“Your pa told me he had some money put aside for you. Maybe we should use it to get a small place of our own,” he suggested. “It isn't going to be easy to look after you proper on a cowboy's wages.”