Western Winds Read online

  “Ragweed’s helping.” The calm in his eyes belied the anger tightening his gut. “Wouldn’t have stayed otherwise,” he added, his tone low and respectful as always.

  “And the extra men guarding the herd, is that taken care of?” When he hesitated in answering, Lacey clenched her hands into fists at her sides. “Ward, Sy hired you on, but you’re kept on by me because I expected you to be able to follow all of my orders now.” Lacey knew her tone insinuated that he was failing in that, for he lowered his gaze from hers.

  “I’ll see to it.” Someday, he vowed, he would put that hellcat down where she belonged. But not even to satisfy the ache she caused in his loins would he jeopardize the soft spot he had on the Reina. He wasn’t alone in his feelings. Curt Blaine stared hungrily at Lacey. Hell, Ward told himself, touching his brim respectfully and walking away, she was the kind of half-girl, half-woman a man ached to tame. But he had the advantage of time and place over the slick lawyer. Plenty of time to make his move.

  “You were hard on him, Lacey,” Curt pointed out, grabbing her arm to detain her. “You were going to stop and speak to me, weren’t you?” Lacey’s resentful look was his answer. “Well, you’re going to hear me out. You can’t talk to the men who work for you as if they haven’t a bit of pride and then expect them to stay on now that Sy is dead.” Softly then he coaxed, “Let me come with you. There’s no need for you to ride out alone. We need to talk, and you can’t keep me at arm’s length now.”

  “Can’t I?” His grip on her arm tightened, making her wish she had not goaded him. But she could not stand to see the pleading look in his brandy-warm eyes. “Curt, I’m grateful for your help these last few weeks. I couldn’t have handled the paperwork and the ranch without you. But I need to get away from here—and I need to be alone. If I stay, I’ll give them more to talk about.”

  Having no doubt that she would do just that, he released her arm. “Don’t be long. The judge wants to see both of us before he leaves. And Lacey, stop being hard on these people. Most of them traveled a distance to pay their respects today. Sy was a man—”

  “…they hated and feared,” she finished for him.

  “Why do you goad them? Do you know the position you put me in by leaving? Wasn’t waiting this long to hold a service to mark his passing enough?”

  “You’re judging me!”

  “Me and everyone else here!”

  Lacey bit her lower lip. She couldn’t defend herself. She had given her word to Judge Walker that she wouldn’t tell anyone he had asked her to wait until he returned.

  Her silence stirred Curt’s anger. “Do you care how hard I worked trying to smooth down the good ladies’ ruffled feathers this morning? Even I’ll be hard-pressed to keep this quiet. Can’t you understand that you’re not a child anymore?”

  “I never was a child.” Her voice was cool—low but cool. “And yes, I do understand exactly what I’ve done. You’re the one who doesn’t understand me if you think I give a hoot about gossipy old women.”

  “You should!” His hand thrust angrily through his hair, his slim body vibrating with tension. “How can we marry when you wouldn’t be asked into one of their homes?”

  With an abrupt move Lacey rushed through the gates, but Curt kept pace with her, crowding her against the adobe wall. “Hey, I’m sorry.” He leaned close, attempting to take her into his arms, but Lacey neatly sidestepped him to avoid his embrace.

  “All right. I’ll wait. But just remember that although I’m a patient man when I want something, even I have my limit—and you’re pushing me close to it.”

  One look at the flushed, set expression of his face told Lacey he was not finished yet. Resigned to listening to him, she leaned against the wall, careful to keep distance between them.

  Her move brought a darker flush of resentment to his face. “I merely wanted to remind you—”

  “What? That I’m not behaving like a lady? Or was it about marriage? I don’t—”

  “Stop it. It wasn’t about us. I wanted to remind you that those same women you scorn so easily happen to number among them the wives of Austin’s bankers. You’ll need those men in the next few months for loans to tide you over until the herd is culled and sold. I can’t believe you would forget that.”

  “You’re too late with your warning. I already insulted Mrs. Howard.”

  “Howard! Her husband runs the largest Austin bank for the group of Eastern investors.” There were times that he could shake her for her damn prideful foolishness.

  “She dared to tell me that if I had an ounce of good sense like her sweet little Janny, I would marry the first man to have me.”

  “I asked. I’m still waiting.”

  “Don’t start about marriage again,” she snapped.

  “Couldn’t you control your temper long enough to listen and then walk away?”

  “Listen? Walk away? Like I said, you don’t know me. I don’t need her reminder that I’m past the acceptable age of being choosy. Nor did I need to be told that with men so scarce around here for someone like me, I’d better take what I could. And don’t bother cross-examining me. I don’t remember exactly what I said that made her take off in a huff that should’ve burst her tight stays.” Once again he blocked her forward move. “Please, I appreciate your concern, but—”

  “Damn you, Lacey! Your appreciation isn’t what I want.”

  “It’s all I’ve got to give you now.” She couldn’t meet his gaze, which was filled with raw desire. Never again would she allow herself to be vulnerable to any man. Lacey knew her strengths and her weaknesses; she would not pay the demanded price for intimacy again. “Whatever else you want to talk about can wait until I get back.”

  “No. Not this time.” His stance was aggressive, and Lacey was forced back against the wall. “I’ve had to put up with your insistence in having your own way about everything, including the wait to hold this memorial service—”

  “How dare you!” she interrupted, her body rigid. “It was my decision to make. I own the Reina now, and I share my burdens and decisions with no one. Not even you, Curt. I had good reason for what I did. That’s all you need to know. Besides, any show of weakness on my part when Sy died might have cost me the men I had hired. Darcy is just waiting for a chance to move in. I can’t afford—”

  “I know. I can’t argue over that.” A good lawyer knew when to admit defeat, and Curt considered himself one of the best. Lacey was headstrong, stubborn enough not to be swayed by any arguments he could voice that she was not capable of running the Reina. She already was.

  “Before you go, did Judge Walker say why he had to see both of us before he leaves to ride circuit from here?”

  “No. And I haven’t seen him since the service. Do you know where he is?”

  Lacey drew one leg up, resting her booted heel against the wall. Distracted by the seductive pose she innocently presented, Curt’s gaze traveled the long length of her legs outlined by fitted pants. Raising his eyes to meet hers, he knew she was angry, but this time he didn’t bother to soothe her.

  “He’s in Sy’s office with that hard-faced saddle tramp he brought with him.”

  Lacey nodded, walking past him. She vaguely remembered the towering height of the shabbily dressed man standing alongside the judge at the gravesite. His face had been shadowed by the thick beginnings of a beard, his hat pulled low to hide his eyes. He had made her uncomfortable for a few moments with his intent staring, almost as if he were willing her to notice him.

  She dismissed the notion as fanciful thinking.

  What would a saddle tramp that the judge had in tow have to do with her or the Reina?

  Chapter 2

  Frowning as she walked briskly toward the corral, Lacey knew she could not ignore Curt much longer. There had to be a way to make him understand that no man was going to ru
le her or the Reina.

  Her horse, saddled and waiting, greeted her with a soft nicker. Restless, the stallion tossed his head, rattling the bridle bit as she mounted him. Wrapping the reins securely over her gloved hands, Lacey urged him into a long strided canter.

  She deliberately ignored Ward standing with two of their hands in front of the bunkhouse. He was angry with her and had been since Sy died. Lacey knew their confrontations were obvious to the men. Ward was a good foreman, but he seemed to go out of his way to challenge her every chance that he could. If Fletcher Ross had not injured his leg breaking a mustang, he would still be foreman of the Reina. But Sy had known the pain his oldest and near only friend endured when he rode, so he had hired Ward to take his place.

  As Lacey passed the last of the outbuildings, Fletcher I hailed her, limping slightly. When Lacey rode up to him, he patted the sleek roan’s neck. “Where’yer headin’?”

  “Anywhere I don’t have to listen to them.”

  “Ain’t had time for yoreself since Sy passed on.”

  “I mourn him in my own way. It was just—well, I can’t worry about what anyone thinks.”

  “Ain’t got no call to tell me. I know. Seen Darcy?”

  “Couldn’t help it,” she bitterly acknowledged. “His eyes rivaled a fire, they were so bright while he listened to the memorial service. I didn’t want him on Reina land when we buried Sy six weeks ago, and if he’s smart, Darcy’ll be gone from my land before I get back.”

  “Don’t know why the judge said to allow him to come,” Fletcher remarked.

  “I told you he insisted. I couldn’t very well refuse him. After all, you and the judge were Sy’s best friends. I wouldn’t refuse you anything that you asked of me.”

  “The judge didn’t seem much like hisself. Acted plumb nervous, like he had somethin’ heavy on his mind.”

  “Well, when I get back I’ll ask him. Funny that he made me promise not to let Curt read the will without him.”

  “You ain’t worried? Ain’t got a call to be. An’ the judge bein’ Sy’s friend was most likely gonna tell you that if you needed him, he’ll be there for you.” With a last pat to the roan’s neck he stepped back. “Go on with you. I’ll mosey on up to the house and see if I can’t get me some vittles. Maggie had me up and workin’ in the kitchen with her afore dawn.”

  “Guess that platter of cold fried chicken and ham she stashed in the pantry must have your name on it. Maggie wouldn’t let you go hungry, Fletcher.”

  “An’ pie?” he called out. “Did she save me some pie?”

  “Might have,” Lacey returned, using the slight pressure of her knees to bring the horse into a canter. The moment she was out of sight, she felt the tension begin to ease.

  An hour later she urged the horse up a steep rock climb, stopping before the edge of a slanted rock shelf that overlooked the Reina.

  Beneath the shadow of her hat brim, her hazel eyes were a flash of light sweeping the vast expanse of undulating land that spread out before her and could only be compared in scope to the dominating blue sky above her.

  Hooking one slender leg casually over the high pommel, she left the other to rest in the well-worn stirrup. She played with the ends of the reins, completely at ease with herself and her surroundings. Pride filled her.

  “Mine.” She whispered the word, understanding the pride that had been nurtured and instilled in her since she had been old enough for Sy to take her up before him and ride every foot of land. She dropped the reins, allowing the roan to nibble the short grass. Her touch was both admiring and affectionate to his sleek neck, for the stallion was her joy and the last gift Sy had given her, three months before on her twentieth birthday.

  A thin silver haze of heat shimmered above the land, blending with the blue haze of distance as she turned to look behind her. East lay the swirling blue ribbon of the Colorado River winding its way toward the city of Austin. To the south her eyes tracked the beauty of the Blue Mountains, draped with an azure-blue light of the sky reflecting off their silver peaks. She twisted in the saddle, looking west, unable to see the Devil River but knowing it was there, and before it the small town of Sonora. Last, she gazed north, where the ranch boundary sprawled invisibly along the rugged foothills of the Bradys like a carelessly thrown blanket. Beyond them lay the unsettled lands that were home to the Comanche. The thought crossed her mind that many of the places in Texas had kept their Spanish or Indian names or reflected, as did her own home, the white-washed adobe buildings that foretold their Spanish origins.

  It was a vast land, where there was room to think and plan and dream, and she loved it. Loved the land, the heat, and the silence. Sy had known that. He had entrusted her to carry on with his dream.

  It was here on the rock shelf that Sy had first stopped with Fletcher on his restless westward journey and made his decision that this was the land to claim.

  Lacey found herself thinking of all the times she had questioned Sy why it was later that he named this spot the Queen’s Rock and changed both the ranch’s name and their brand to the Reina. Somehow he had managed to turn aside her questions. But Sy was a master at turning her aside.

  The sound of cows lowing brought her attention to the cattle that spread like a russet tide in rich contrast to the lush grasses. Short-horned Durhams outnumbered the grand Texas longhorns munching contentedly on the newly curled spring grass. Cattle lay in the dappled shade of huge clumps of sagebrush, chewing quietly, waiting for sunset. They numbered close to four thousand head of prime stock that would bring her top dollar when the herd was sold. A few more weeks would see them sleek and fat enough to drive up to the newly completed railhead of the Kansas Pacific Railroad at Abilene. Lacey felt the same eager surge to get on with building the Reina, as did most of the people in the western territories. The Civil War had been over for nearly two years, and nothing could stop the tide of settlers searching for new land.

  It was a fact she was aware of just as she had been forced to acknowledge that Sy’s death, sudden as it was, could not interfere with the working of the ranch. With a shaken sigh she knew she could not allow anything to sidetrack her from her goal of keeping the Reina. Her lips trembled, her eyes held a stricken look of vulnerability, and her throat constricted tightly. A hoof striking stone startled her, and she turned to find a man watching her.

  “Bo, you—”

  “Figured you’d be up here.”

  “Yes. It somehow seemed the right place to come and mourn him.”

  He nodded, making no move to come closer or to talk. He had known she would come to the Queen’s Rock, her place of solitude. And while most of the hands would stay away, he could not. His gaze lingered on the toll the last weeks had taken on Lacey. There were bruised shadows beneath her eyes, a hollowness to her cheeks, and a pale translucence to her lightly tanned skin. He gritted his teeth. It wasn’t his place to comment. Lacey was driving herself as hard as she drove the men, and he wasn’t sure who would break first.

  “Want to talk?” he asked softly, making no move to dismount.

  “In a bit.”

  “I got time. Always have for you.”

  Lacey acknowledged his words with a shy smile. Bo James always had time and patience for her, teaching her whatever she wanted to know, giving her, as Fletcher and Maggie did, the warmth and caring that Sy had no measure of for a motherless child.

  “They still down there, waitin’?” he asked, motioning toward the sprawl of buildings far below them.

  “Might be they’re waiting to hear the terms of Sy’s will. Why, I don’t know.” Her finely arched brows drew together in a frown.

  “There ain’t a question of who’s gettin’ the Reina?”

  “No. Maybe they just want fodder for gossip.”

  “Hear tell you gave ’em plenty today and more’n enough in years past,” he re
marked with a grin.

  Lacey returned it. Bo’s face was rugged, lined with spider-webbed creases. His eyes held the permanent squint of a man who spent too long in the sun.

  “I’ll stay, if you want.”

  “Sure.” There was no need for her talk. Bo understood her silences. And she had to think of a way to make everyone, especially Curt, accustom themselves to the idea that she and she alone controlled her actions and the Reina. A gentle breeze blew a few stray tendrils of hair across her face, and her move was impatient to secure them beneath her hat. A small, impish grin touched her lips briefly, remembering the shocked looks her action had caused. She felt no guilt. Sy would have done the same. He had encouraged her to be independent.

  Sy. Everything came back to him. Sometimes she felt frightened by the task he had left her.

  Her sigh made Bo ask, “You ain’t worried ’bout handlin’ the Reina on your own? ’Cause if you are, don’t. Me and the boys are all behind you.”

  “No, it’s not that. But you’re sweet to reassure me. I think I’m looking forward to the challenge. It’s Curt’s possessive behavior that bothers me. I don’t want any man to clutter up my life. And Mrs. Howard—”

  “That peacock hen?”

  “Can’t argue with you there. But she reminded me that I should think about marrying. If I don’t, who will I leave the Reina to?”

  “Curt offered for you more’n once. Seems to me he’d do right by you.”

  “He’ll never love the Reina the way Sy did.” Turning away, Lacey missed the tightening of Bo’s lips. The breeze, slight as it was, died away, leaving a sultry heat to settle oppressively around her. Hunched over the pommel with her elbow resting on her knee, Lacey absently opened two more buttons on her shirt. She closed her eyes for a moment, murmuring, “Doc said Sy was a bull of a man and that his boots would be hard to fill. Even the minister said that Sy was a man among men. There isn’t anyone that could deny it.”

  “Might be true,” he answered with a grim tone. “All but Darcy, that is.”