Texas Pride: Night Riders (2 page)

Carla’s welcoming smile froze, and the heat of her long-smoldering anger and resentment burst into flame. It didn’t matter that this man wasn’t Laveau diViere. He was here for the same purpose, to take what didn’t rightfully belong to him.

“You have no business here, Mr. Nikolai. You’re not the man who cheated my brother of his inheritance.”

“Laveau diViere contracted me to manage his share of the ranch.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth? You could be trying to cheat diViere just like he cheated my brother.”

“I do not know the means by which Laveau came into possession of half your ranch—”

“He didn’t
come
into
possession
of it. He stole it!”

“—but I have a written contract which says I am to manage the property for a year.”

That stopped her. “Why just a year? What does he plan to do then? Sell it? I will buy it if he’ll give me time to find the money.”

“If I stay for the year, the property will belong to me.”

That was something she hadn’t foreseen. “What will you do with it?”

“Sell it for the highest price I can get so I can go back to Poland.”

Now she understood the origin of the accent, but the situation was even worse. The Four Corners was the most successful ranch within six counties. They had the best grass and the best water. Several ranchers would jump at the chance to buy the land for more money than she could pay.

“What part of the land belongs to you, and what part belongs to Laveau?” Ivan asked.

“The ranch has never been divided. My brother and I own all of it equally.”

Ivan smiled. She wished he hadn’t. She found it harder to be angry at such a seemingly genuine smile. It had to be a trick, a ploy he used to make people think he was a nice person who would treat them fairly, when all the while he intended to rob them. Why else would he have anything to do with a man who would ply a boy with drink then cheat him out of his inheritance?

“That is good,” Ivan said. “We will work together.”

It was hard not to be distracted by his accent, by his smile, by his imposing stature, but she wasn’t the kind of weak-minded female who would let that happen. “We will not
work
together
,” she told him. “I don’t want you here. You have no right to be here.”

“I have a contract—”

“Having a contract with a thief makes no difference. It just makes you a thief, too.”

Ivan’s reaction was immediate. He drew himself up, going from genial to imposing in an instant. “I am
not
a thief. I am of noble blood. To steal even the smallest thing would be an insult to my ancestors. My family has a long history in Poland. We—”

“I’m not interested in your family or its history.” Not that she believed he was of noble blood. She wasn’t even sure he was Polish. “My only concern is your attempt to take part of my ranch.”

“I did not take it. Laveau diViere did. I am here to manage it until it can be mine.”

“Why should he give it to you?” She’d been about to say something quite different, but that question had been at the back of her mind since he said the land would eventually become his.

“It is difficult to explain.”

“I don’t have to start supper for half an hour.”

After Ivan’s tangled explanation of theft, betrayal, and seven ex-confederate soldiers’ five-year-long attempt to get revenge, Carla was even less inclined to believe anything he said. She wanted him off her ranch and out of her life as quickly as possible. She intended to bring her case before the circuit judge the moment he came to town. “Even if what you say is true, it doesn’t make any difference. Laveau diViere won that card game by cheating. I don’t want you here or anywhere near my ranch.”

Carla expected an argument or flaring temper. Instead, Ivan continued to stand there looking at her like he hadn’t heard a word she’d said.

“Didn’t you hear me?” she asked when she couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

“Of course, I did. I can hear very well.”

“Then leave.”

“Why should I do something so foolish?”

“Because you have no right to be here.”

“I should show you my contract.”

“I don’t want to see your contract.”

“It will tell you I have the right to be here.”

“I don’t care what your paper says.”

“How can that be? In America one must have a paper for everything. It was so in Poland, too, but Russians do not care about papers. Are you Russian?”

Talking to this man was like throwing her words to the wind. “No, I’m not Russian, and I do care about papers. I just don’t care about
your
paper.”

Ivan looked at the document. “What do you not like about it? A lawyer who calls himself Lukey said it was a good paper. The writing is very pretty. The ink is good and strong.” He snapped the paper to show its strength. “The paper is of good quality. Laveau would never write on anything cheap.”

It was just her luck to be confronted by the most handsome and charming man she’d ever met only to find that he was an idiot. Or a conniving shyster. “I don’t care about the penmanship or the quality of the ink and paper.”

“But such things are important. There are many documents in my family that are hundreds of years old. If we could not read them, how would we know anything about our history?”

Texas was hardly thirty years old. Men ranched and farmed land they didn’t own. Buffalo roamed over the western part of the state, and Indian raids were common. The state was run by a Reconstruction government that made its own rules and ignored any they didn’t like. The idea that Ivan’s paper would be of any interest hundreds of years from now was ridiculous. “Your paper has no value because I’m not going to share running my ranch with you.”

“I am sorry you feel that way. I would be happy to work with a lady as pretty as you, but it is probably best to divide the ranch up now. That will make things easier when I get ready to sell my half. In Poland we have maps of all our ancestral lands. We mark everything—roads, farm tracks, fields, fences, stone walls, hedges, and even sheds.”

Just thinking about anyone selling part of her ranch out from under her made Carla so angry she could hardly think, but she could think well enough to set this man straight. This was not Poland, and whatever they did there had nothing to do with Texas. “Let me make myself clear. I deny Laveau diViere’s claim on my ranch. By extension, I deny your right to run any part of my ranch, own any part of my ranch, or sell any part of my ranch. Now I want you off my land immediately.”

“I did not expect that I would stay in your house,” Ivan said, “though it would have been gracious of you to make such an offer. I will stay in the bunkhouse.”

“You can’t stay in the bunkhouse either.”

“Is the bunkhouse on your half of the ranch?”

“Yes,” she said in hopes of simplifying the situation. “So are the corrals, the well, the chicken pen, and every building you see.” That seemed to give Mr. Nikolai pause but not for long.

“That does not seem fair—I was told Texans were very concerned about fairness—but you are not happy about this. Am I right?”

Finally he seemed to understand something. “I’m
furious
about it. If I said half the things to you I’ve said to my brother, your ears would burn.”

“I have very good ears. They never burn, not even in very hot weather. We do not have hot weather like this in Poland, but it gets very cold.”

Carla shook her head so hard her vision blurred. But when it cleared, Ivan Nikolai was still standing at the bottom her steps, so this insane conversation must really be taking place. Why would Laveau diViere hire such a man to manage his property? Either he was so stupid he was a danger to himself, or he was extremely clever. She decided he must have survived on his looks and a smile, which he didn’t hesitate to use to his advantage. If he hadn’t been trying to steal half of her ranch, she’d probably have been taken in. What woman could look at such a man without hoping he wasn’t too good to be true?

“Mr. Nikolai, I don’t want to be rude, but how can I make you understand that I don’t want you on my ranch? Go back to town, go back to where you came from, go anywhere you want, but leave my ranch.”

“I can see that my being here has upset you. That was to be expected. I do not hold it against you.”

His smile was so understanding, so sympathetic, she wanted to slap him.

“I will not go. Your Mr. Lukey has said I have a right to be here, though he appeared to dislike it as much as you. I do not understand why you dislike me so much, but I do not want to make a woman as pretty as you upset. I will take care of myself.”

She didn’t know what he intended to do, but at least he understood she didn’t want him here.

“It has been most pleasant to meet you. Now if you will permit, I will be going.”

If
she
would
permit!
She’d been telling him to leave from the moment he arrived. But now that he was leaving, she felt a little sorry for him. He wasn’t the villain. Laveau diViere was. Ivan was merely acting for him. Still, no matter how nice, handsome, or charming, he wanted to take half of her ranch, and she wouldn’t allow anybody to do that. She watched as he replaced his hat, turned, and mounted his horse. He did so with the fluid motion of a man who’s ridden all his life. She wondered where he did come from. It certainly wasn’t any place she knew.

“It has been a delight to meet you,” he said. “I look forward to our next meeting.”

Rather than say something she didn’t mean, she watched him ride away. Heaving a sigh of relief, she turned and entered the house. That was a lot easier than she expected. She still would talk to the judge, but it looked like the situation had resolved itself. All she had to do now was make Danny swear he would never play poker again.

***

Ivan didn’t like this part of Texas. It was even less like the flat, lush plains of Poland than Cade’s ranch below San Antonio. Wide stretches of open grassland reached into the distance, the horizon broken only by a scattering of trees and valley woodlands along streambeds that remained dry except during a downpour. The oppressive heat caused a thirst he couldn’t quench. He could understand why Laveau didn’t want to live on the ranch. He wasn’t sure he did, either.

He didn’t know if he’d done the right thing in accepting Laveau’s offer, but it was done now. The other Night Riders might accuse him of being a traitor—at the very least that he’d backed out of his vow—but he was tired of working for someone else. He had been born Ivan Nikolai Augustus Stanislas, Prince of Poniatowski, a distant descendant of the early kings of Poland. The final partition of Poland in the late eighteenth century had deprived his family of their ancestral lands. Rather than be dependent on one of his Russian conquerors, he’d chosen to seek his fortune in America. That he was still a cowhand proved it hadn’t worked out very well.

Despite the uninviting landscape, Ivan was satisfied with his campsite. He whistled to himself as he washed the pot he’d used to cook his dinner. It would have been nice to settle back with a nice cognac, but that was for the future when he was back in Poland in his rightful position. Until then, he had to save every penny. He packed away his utensils and put the coffee on to boil.

The sun was sinking over the horizon, causing bands of dull yellow and vivid orange to splash across the darkening sky. The gravelly ground beneath his feet radiated back the heat it had accumulated during the day, thus insuring that the air would not cool off for many hours yet. Small creatures that sought cover during the heat of day came out to forage for food in the fading light. After watering his horse, Ivan picketed him in the grass alongside the stream. It surprised him to find the stream still running so late in summer. It had to be spring fed. No wonder Miss Reece was so determined to hold on to her ranch. It was the only flowing stream he’d seen for nearly a hundred miles.

Thinking about Carla Reece made him smile. She was certainly a spirited young woman. Pretty, too. She had backbone and intelligence, but she would never fit in Poland. She wouldn’t understand that a woman of his class did not have the privileges and freedoms she enjoyed in Texas. She wouldn’t be allowed to own land, much less to tell a man to leave it. Nevertheless, he didn’t hold it against her. She was fighting for her birthright. He understood that.

Deciding that his coffee was ready, he took the pot off the fire and kicked sand over the embers to put them out. Even though the sun had sunk out of sight, it was too hot for a fire. There was so much sand and quartz in the soil that it looked almost white in the moonlight. The reflected light threw the cactus, mesquite, and other brushy growth into silhouette. Soon it would be so dark that everything except the sky would fade into a bottomless blue black. In the stillness of the night, he would plan what to do next.

His coffee was hot and strong. No one in his family would swallow such a brew, but he’d come to like it during his five years of working on his friend’s ranch. He chuckled. His mother wouldn’t recognize half the dishes he’d learned to eat. She would say they weren’t good enough for the servants. Only there had been no servants for his family after the Russians took their land. Reminded of the latest letter from his mother, he took it out of his pocket and read it once more.

…now that it has been ten years since you went away, Anika is saying her son should have your title and position. Since her husband has taken responsibility for the family, she says her son should have the position that goes with the obligation. Ludmila says her son should inherit because she’s the older sister. They cannot meet without saying rude and hurtful things. You must come home before the family is torn apart.

Your loving mother,

Krystina Stanislas

Princess Poniatowski

Ivan folded the letter and returned it to his pocket. His mother ended every letter with a plea that he come home for the sake of the family. His two sisters had been very close before Anika’s marriage to a wealthy Russian trumped Ludmila’s marriage to an impoverished Polish prince. Now every letter bore a tale of their increasingly bitter estrangement, a state of affairs that could only be remedied by his return. But he wouldn’t go home when he was even poorer than Ludmila’s nobleman. He would remain in exile forever before he would become Anika’s husband’s pensioner.