Badlanders Page 6

  Neal was tongue-tied. He’d never been all that comfortable around women he didn’t know, and Edana Jessup made him doubly uneasy because she was so good-looking.

  “This is a sorry start to our stay here,” Edana declared.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Isolda said, smiling at Beaumont. “I found it quite interesting.”

  “My favorite word,” the gambler said to her, and gave a courtly bow. “Perhaps the lady would care to take a tour of the premises? I promise to attend to your every whim.”

  “Listen to you,” Isolda said.

  “Enough!” Alexander gruffly declared. He pointed at Beaumont. “My daughter doesn’t associate with questionable characters. You will stop imposing yourself on us this instant.” He pointed at Edana. “Don’t you ever do something like that again. Between the gambler and you, it’s no wonder those three ruffians were provoked.” He pointed at Neal. “As for you, Mr. Bonner, I’m severely disappointed. Frank Wells led me to believe you were the best man for the job of foreman. He praised you as capable and efficient. Instead you show up late, and when you saw we were in peril, you came to our rescue but aggravated the situation more than anything.” Alexander paused. “I can’t say I’m greatly impressed.”

  Neal felt himself grow warm in the face. He was seldom embarrassed. He seldom let himself be embarrassed. He was about to explain the circumstances involved but changed his mind. Jessup would only regard it as making excuses.

  “If you’d like, we can collect your bags and head for the ranch.”

  “Must we leave so soon, Father?” Isolda asked. “We’ve only just arrived, and I would love to have a bite to eat.”

  “An excellent suggestion,” Alexander said. “Some tea would calm our nerves.” He turned back to Neal. “Where would you suggest? Is there a restaurant worthy of the name?”

  “There’s only one and for most it’s good enough,” Neal said.

  “Lead the way.”

  Neal walked past them. He caught a whiff of Edana’s perfume and avoided looking at her.

  Alexander took the arms of both his daughters and followed.

  Isolda, glancing back, grinned and winked at Beaumont Adams.

  “Did you see that?” the gambler said to Jericho. “I do believe I’m in love.”

  “What can you tell me about Wratner?”

  “I met him for the first time today, the same as you,” Beaumont said. “But the name rings a bell. They say he’s mighty gun wise.”

  “Interestin’,” Jericho said, and ambled after the others.

  “I’ll be damned. Did you just poke fun at me?” Beaumont said.

  Up ahead, Neal heard the exchange and was annoyed at himself for not asking the same thing. Scar Wratner wasn’t the kind to forgive and forget. They’d braced him in the middle of Main Street, in front of God and everybody. Wratner would get back at them somehow. The man might bide his time, but sooner or later there would be a reckoning.

  Neal walked past the general store and the dress shop and stopped and indicated a sign. “The eatery.”

  In large letters was MA’S. GOOD FOOD. CHEAP.

  “How quaint,” Alexander Jessup said.

  Neal held the door for them. He waited for Jericho to come up and asked, “Are you hungry?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “How about you stay outside and keep an eye on things?”

  “Suits me. I don’t much care for the big sugar. He looks down his nose at folks.”

  “He’s from back East,” Neal said, as if that explained it. Going in, he saw that the Jessups had already selected a table. He pulled out a chair across from Alexander and sat.

  “Where’s Mr. Jericho?” Edana asked.

  “Keepin’ watch, ma’am,” Neal said. “And it’s just Jericho.”

  “Is that his first name or his last?”

  “It’s the only one he uses.”

  “How strange.”

  “Everything about this place is so different from what we’re used to,” Isolda said. “I find it invigorating.”

  “You’re young yet, and impressionable,” Alexander said. “I’ve seen little to recommend this town. It’s too crude by half.”

  “You’ve only just got here,” Neal felt compelled to say.

  “All the men with their firearms. Animals wandering where they please. The streets aren’t kept clean. Franklyn Wells warned me conditions were primitive compared to those I am accustomed to, but still.”

  Neal was experiencing doubts. Wells had assured him that Alexander Jessup was the right man to oversee the Diamond B, but so far he hadn’t seen evidence of that. “How much do you know about cows, Mr. Jessup, if you don’t mind my askin’?”

  “They give milk and they taste good,” Alexander said. “But don’t you worry. When I set my mind to something, I learn quickly. Inside of a month, I expect to have acquired most of the knowledge I’ll need to run the ranch efficiently.”

  “That’s awful optimistic,” Neal observed.

  “Do you doubt my father’s ability?” Edana asked.

  “No, ma’am. But learnin’ anything in a month takes a heap of doin’. I’ve been workin’ cattle all my life and I still learn new things from time to time.”

  “My father has a brilliant mind for business. It’s why the consortium wanted him to manage the ranch. You should respect that.”

  Neal began to wonder if the whole family went around with their noses in the air. “Out here, ma’am, a man earns respect by what he does. He doesn’t have it handed to him on his say-so.”

  “We’re liars, are we?”

  “I never said that, ma’am.”

  “Now, now,” Alexander intervened. “Daughter, quit being so hard on him. He’s right to be skeptical. I would be, too, were I in his boots. I don’t mind having to prove myself to him or anyone else.”

  Neal’s estimation of Jessup rose a notch. “The hands won’t expect you to ride and rope. That’s their job. All they’ll ask is that you don’t act as high and mighty as some do.”

  “Do you mean me?” Edana asked coolly.

  “I was thinkin’ of Scar Wratner, ma’am.” Neal told the first lie he’d told in a coon’s age.

  “We’ve seen the last of him, I’m sure.”

  “If you say so, ma’am,” Neal said, knowing full well they hadn’t.

  8

  Isolda Jessup barely noticed the food. She was in a whirl of emotions unlike any she had ever experienced.

  For starters, there was that gambler, Beaumont Adams. Something about him appealed to her. It wasn’t just that he was good-looking. It was him, his personality. He reminded her of her in how he was amused by everything that went on around him. He had a keen wit, and his jests made her laugh. No man had ever done that before. Not to this degree.

  The town itself, in the brief glimpse she’d had of it, appealed to her, too. Her father was right. Whiskey Flats was an untamed cauldron of violence and vice. And Lord help her, she loved that.

  Isolda never had liked the life her father imposed on her. It was too reserved, too dull. He was always on her about being a proper lady, as her mother was, and never doing or saying anything that would bring scandal to the family. But as much as Isolda loved her mother—and she had loved her dearly—she wasn’t her.

  Her mother had been mousy and timid. Isolda liked to speak her mind. She liked to do as she pleased.

  Her father was always saying how she must restrain herself and do as a lady would do. Isolda was so tired of that word she could scream. It seemed to her that forcing women to be ladies was how men kept women under their control. Why else was it that men were allowed to go to taverns and saloons but “proper ladies” weren’t? And that was but one of a long list of things that ladies were forever being told was unseemly for them to do.

  In a pig’s
eye, Isolda thought, and grinned. She’d never used that expression before. It must be her surroundings, she decided. They were bringing out the rustic in her.

  Sitting back, Isolda noticed the ranch foreman was staring at her. The moment she met his gaze he looked away, which added to her amusement. There he sat, so big and strong and manly, and he was as timid as her mother. She couldn’t imagine Beaumont Adams looking away. The gambler would more likely want her to sit on his lap. At that, she inadvertently giggled.

  “What is so humorous?” her father asked.

  “I’m excited about the new house,” Isolda said. “I can’t wait to unpack and settle in.”

  “I’ve brought a buckboard, ma’am,” Neal Bonner said. “For your travelin’ bags and such. And you and your sister can sit on the seat with the driver.”

  Isolda couldn’t think of anything less appealing than riding on a hard seat hours on end.

  “What about me, Mr. Bonner?” Alexander asked.

  “I brought a horse.”

  “You assumed I’d ride out to the ranch?”

  “You don’t want to, Mr. Jessup?” Neal said.

  “I’d rather not, no. The longest I’ve ever been on horseback in my entire life was for an hour or so, and that was years ago. Is there any chance we can rent a carriage at the livery?”

  “Afraid not,” Neal said. “They only have horses to rent.”

  “Well, that won’t do. One of my first orders of business will be to acquire a carriage for the Diamond B to convey my daughters and me back and forth when necessary, and guests when we have them.”

  “There were a few ranches down to Texas that had their own carriages,” Neal said. “I reckon I should have thought of that. A buckboard makes for a rough ride for those not used to it.”

  “I’ll ride in the back,” Alexander said. “We can fold a blanket for me to sit on. It shouldn’t be too bad.”

  “I have a better idea, Father,” Edana said. “Why don’t you ride on the seat with Isolda and the driver, and I’ll go horseback?”

  “I don’t mind roughing it, daughter.”

  “I’m sure you don’t,” Edana said. “But I like riding, as you well know. I made it a point to ride at least once a week at Macedonia.”

  “Yes, you did,” Alexander said. “You’ve always liked horses more than your sister does.”

  “I can’t stand the stink,” Isolda said.

  Neal Bonner sat back as if she’d slapped him. “Of a horse?”

  “Horses have an odor, just like everything else.”

  “But—” Neal stopped.

  “Why do you look so flabbergasted?”

  “A hog or a pig I could savvy. A chicken coop will stink to high heaven if it’s not aired out. Even a dog will smell when it’s been runnin’ or when it’s wet. But a horse has the pleasantest scent this side of a woman.”

  “Oh, really?” Isolda said, and was tickled when he blushed again.

  Edana came to Neal’s defense. “I happen to agree with him. I like how a horse smells. It’s not rank or musty but rather pleasant.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Neal said.

  “What are you thanking her for?” Isolda asked. “You’re not a horse.”

  Alexander cleared his throat. “I flatter myself that I understand. He’s a horseman of the plains, after all, and I’ve heard that cowboys become quite attached to their animals.”

  “I’d rather be attached to a person,” Isolda said, “so long as he doesn’t stink.” She laughed merrily.

  Isolda had ordered pot pie, and had to admit it was delicious. The pieces of chicken were well done, the gravy was buttery, and the carrots and peas weren’t undercooked.

  But she only picked at it, thinking of Beaumont Adams, until her father caught her off guard.

  “You’re not eating much, Isolda. Don’t you like the food? This was your idea, after all.”

  “Apparently I wasn’t as hungry as I thought,” Isolda said, justifying her disinterest. “Do we have to leave as soon as we’re done? I was hoping we’d take a stroll around the town.” And perhaps she’d run into the gambler again.

  “I’d rather we didn’t delay our departure. I want to reach the ranch well before dark, if we can.” Alexander turned to Neal. “Is that possible?”

  “If we leave soon it is.”

  “I’m curious,” Alexander said. “What would you have done earlier if Scar Wratner or one of those others had resorted to their six-shooters?”

  “I’d have let Jericho handle it but been ready to back his play.”

  “Loyalty to a friend is commendable,” Alexander said, “so long as it doesn’t get you killed.”

  “And even if it does,” Neal said. “Stickin’ by those we care for is the mark of a man.” He caught himself and added, “Or a woman.”

  “That’s your measure of manhood?” Isolda said derisively. “There’s more to life than loyalty.”

  “If there is,” Neal said, “I haven’t made its acquaintance.”

  “Does that apply to wives and families?” Edana asked casually.

  “If it didn’t, it’d be a worthless proposition,” Neal said. “A wife and young’uns deserve the best a man can give them.”

  “A commendable attitude,” Edana said. “You have my sincere esteem.”

  “Lordy, ma’am.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’m not used to all the big words you three sling around,” Neal said with a good-natured smile. “Must be all that book learnin’.”

  “How many books have you read, Mr. Bonner?”

  “Ma’am?”

  “You heard me,” Edana said. “I’m curious to learn how many books you’ve read in your lifetime.”

  “All the way through?”

  “Is there any other way to read a book?”

  “Bits and pieces,” Neal said.

  Isolda laughed. “Isn’t he wonderful?”

  “I’m waiting for an answer,” Edana said. “Have you read so many that you can’t count them?”

  “Sort of the opposite, ma’am,” Neal said. “I haven’t ever read a book all the way through. The closest I’ve come is the Bible, but that’s mostly from hearin’ it spoke about a lot.”

  “Not one book in your entire lifetime? How is that possible?”

  Neal shrugged. “In the part of Texas where I grew up, there wasn’t much schoolin’. Oh, my ma taught me to read and write, which has come in handy. But I’ve never owned a book in my life.”

  “There wasn’t a schoolhouse you could attend?”

  “The nearest, as I recollect, was a hundred miles away or better,” Neal said. “A right far piece to go to every mornin’ and make it home in time for supper.”

  Alexander chuckled. “I do believe our foreman has just poked a hole in your pretensions, my dear.”

  “What’s pretentious about an education? How can he be as good at his job as they say he is if he’s barely literate?”

  Neal answered for himself. “The important thing is that I’m smarter than the cows. If I was dumber, I’d be worthless.”

  Laughing, Alexander said, “Well countered. You must be careful, my dear. I’ve heard that cowboy wit can be sharp.”

  “It’s not his wit so much as you love to see us put in our place,” Isolda said.

  “What a terrible thing to say. When do I ever do that?”

  “All the time, Father,” Isolda said. “It’s either your way or no way, from how we dress to how we live.”

  “That’s not entirely true,” Edana said. “All he asks is that we comport ourselves as ladies. Beyond that, Father never imposes boundaries.”

  “Then why do I feel like I have shackles on my ankles?”

  “Isolda!” Alexander said. “That will be quite enough. You’re giving M
r. Bonner the wrong impression. Yes, I’m a taskmaster, but only at my work, not with my family.”

  “If you say so.” Isolda had brought it up before and been treated the same way. It both amused and angered her that her sister always sided with their father. She was amused because Edana was too blinded by devotion to see her own shackles, and she was angered because it was just such blindness that kept women in the kitchen and working at drudgery all day.

  Isolda was glad when the meal was over and they started back up the street. She noticed how Jericho fell into step behind them without saying a word, and how alert he was to their surroundings. His eyes were always flicking this way and that. That Colt of his gave her a strange thrill. She would very much like to have a pistol of her own. Her father might forbid it, though. Ladies shouldn’t carry revolvers, after all.

  As they neared the Three Aces, Isolda hoped for a glimpse of Beaumont Adams. Fate was kind to her, for there he was, at the front window, looking out. He smiled and gave a little wave. Was it her imagination, or did he wave specifically at her and not at her sister or her father? Since her father wasn’t watching, she smiled and waved back. The gambler’s smile widened.

  Isolda tingled with excitement. Their venture into the Wild West, as some referred to it, held more promise than she’d anticipated. She’d figured to be so bored most of the time that she couldn’t stand it. But the only thing that bored her so far was Neal Bonner and his ridiculous fondness for cows. She couldn’t think of anything duller than cattle. For a man to take pride in being good at handling them was about as impressive a feat as trimming one’s toenails. Where was the challenge? The excitement?

  No, Isolda reflected. She’d go along with this cow business for as long as she could stand it. And then, who could say?

  The buckboard was parked at the side of the livery stable, the driver leaning against it with his arms folded, waiting.

  “Folks, I’d like you to meet Stumpy,” Neal introduced him. “He’s a friend of mine from down to Texas. He can’t herd cows on account of his condition, but he’s right handy around a ranch at a lot of other things.”

  Isolda couldn’t help staring. The man’s “condition,” as Bonner called it, was that he was missing the bottom part of his left leg and had been fitted with a wooden peg, like a pirate’s.