Fire on the Plains (Western Fire) (26 page)

“Lydia, dear, I hope you don’t mind if Ben and I have our evening smoke at the table rather than in the gentleman’s parlor. There’s something that I wish to discuss with your husband and I’d like for you to listen in.”

After
Lydia acquiesced with a demure nod of the head, Avery Chadwick, cigar in hand, turned to Ben and said, “As I understand it, the Comanches robbed y’all blind. And while it’s true that there’s ten thousand acres of good grazing that’s yours for the taking, you’re gonna need capital, and lots of it, to turn all of those acres into a going concern.”

Ben
wordlessly nodded, wondering where the conversation was leading.

“Now, I could loan you the
—”

“I don’t want a loan,” Ben interjected, not about to take money from his wife’s relatives.

“I know that,” Avery acknowledged with a nod of the head. “No man wants to be beholden to his in-laws.” Leaning back in his ornately carved chair, the older man took a long, deep draw on his cigar, pausing a moment to savor his after-dinner smoke. “Actually, I had something else in mind. Simply put, you need money and I need a new foreman to work my ranch. Savvy?”

Ben pulled his cigar out of his mouth. “Let me make sure
that I’m hearing your right: you want to hire
me
to run your ranch?”

“
Yep. That’s the long and short of it.”

“But I don’t know the first thing about being a foreman,” Ben was quick to point out, Avery Chadwick’s offer smacking of nepotism.

“You were an army captain, weren’t you?” When Ben nodded, Avery said,” Well, being a foreman is no different. I’ve got a big outfit, and I need someone I can trust to run it for me. Besides, if you take the job, not only will you draw regular wages, you’ll learn everything that you need to know about the cattle business.”

Raising his cigar to his mouth, Ben mulled over the proposition
. Truth be told, Avery’s argument had merit. In order to one day successfully operate his own ranch, he needed to live, eat, and breathe Texas cattle. Of course, the rub of it was that he’d be working for someone else. Making him a bought man.

“And just so you know where you stand going into this, the pay is two hundred dollars a month.”

Ben straightened in his chair, his cigar tightly clenched between his teeth.

Two hundred dollars!
Hell, he only made seventy-five dollars a month in the army.

“Now before you go and accuse me of hiking the pay because you’re my niece’s husband, that’s what my last foreman earned.”

Lydia turned to him, an expectant look in her eyes. “Ben, dear, it sounds like a very good opportunity.”

Although she spoke in a quiet
tone of voice, her message couldn’t have been any clearer – Lydia wanted him to take the job.

While the thought of working for another man, even an in-law, stuck in his craw, Ben knew that
given his current financial state, he’d have to go to work for
someone
. He had a family to support. If he was earning two hundred dollars a month, he should be able in three years time to squirrel away enough money to strike out on his own, hire a few men, and round up a small herd.

Three years. Damn,
that was a long time.

But
what choice did he have?

Ben stubbed his cigar in
a crystal ashtray, having suddenly lost the taste for it. “All right, Avery . . . I accept your offer.”

His new employer slapped his palm on the mahogany table, a pleased look on his
ruddy face. “Splendid! And don’t worry. We’ll all live here at the hacienda like one big, happy family.”

Ben brusquely shook his head, having taken enough charity for one night. “It’s my understanding that there’s a small house on the land that Lydia inherited.”

“There is. Though it doesn’t amount to much. Not to mention, it hasn’t been inhabited in years.”

“If it’s all the same to you, that’s where we’ll take up residence,” Ben
informed Avery Chadwick, making it clear that he would brook no argument.

“I understand completely.
Being newlyweds, no doubt, the two of you are anxious to set up housekeeping for yourselves.” Avery turned to his niece, an approving gleam in his eyes. “You got yourself a damn fine man, Lydia.”

“I know, Uncle Avery . . . I know.”

Lydia also knew that it couldn’t have been easy for Ben to accept her uncle’s offer of employment. And while his manly pride might temporarily be bruised, she felt certain the arrangement was all for the best. Thanks to her Uncle Avery, they now had a secure future.

Her uncle
rose to his feet. “What do y’all say we call it a night? Ben, you and me can hash out the details in the morning.”

“That’ll be fine.”

Glancing at her husband, Lydia was puzzled by Ben’s glum expression.

“Believe me, son, you made a wise decision.” Her uncle
thrust out his hand. “And one that you won’t regret.”

After shaking her Uncle
Avery’s hand, Ben stepped behind Lydia’s chair and politely assisted her as she rose from the table. The two of them bid her uncle goodnight before they then headed upstairs.

As they made their way to their
assigned bed chamber, Lydia grew increasingly anxious; Ben hadn’t said a word to her since he’d accepted her uncle’s employment offer.

When they entered
their room, Lydia noticed that Carmelita had turned the bed covers down and the oil lamps up.

“Goodness,” she murmured,
unaccustomed to such luxury.

Although
Lydia had been raised in an affluent home with a bevy of house servants, for the last ten years, she’d scrubbed her own clothes, cooked her own meals, and made her own bed. In all honesty, she preferred it that way. Without asking, she knew that Ben also preferred it that way. She’d noticed the uneasy look on his face each time Carmelita had ladled a helping of food onto his plate, or Manuel had refilled his wine glass.

Having yet to say a word, Ben tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it onto a nearby chair. Lydia, likewise, began to disrobe, plying her fingers to the row of butto
ns on the front of her bodice.

U
nnerved by the silence, she said, “You are happy, aren’t you?”

Stepping toward her,
Ben gently held her face between his hands. “If I was any happier with you, Lydia, I’d be making a blubbering fool out of myself.”

She blushed at the compliment, pleased that her husband took joy in their marital relationship. Unfortunately, he’d misunderstood
the question.

“What I
was asking is whether you’re happy with Uncle Avery’s job offer.”

F
rowning, Ben stepped over and seated himself in the same upholstered chair where he’d tossed his shirt. “I could be happier, I won’t lie to you.” As he spoke, he pulled a bootjack toward him and proceeded to remove his riding boots. “We’ve only just arrived and already I’m indebted to a man I barely know.”

“But Uncle Avery is family now.
” Snatching the nightdress that had been neatly laid out on the counterpane, Lydia said, “Or are you holding it against my uncle that he is southern born?”

Ben threw his boot onto the floor. “There you go, putting words into my mouth. Your uncle seems like a well-meaning, decent man. It’s just that. . . .”
Shaking his head, her husband shrugged, refusing to finish the thought.

“
It’s just that you don’t like the idea of working for him,” Lydia said matter-of-factly, fairly certain that was the gist of Ben’s unspoken complaint.

“Honestly? I don’t like the idea of working for
any
man.”

There was no mistaking the resentment in
Ben’s voice.

“But because of Dixie and me, you felt obliged to
accept the job offer,” Lydia conjectured, admittedly irked by Ben’s unappreciative attitude.

“Damn it, Lydia! C
an’t you just leave well enough alone?” Finished removing his boots, Ben rose from the chair. “I’ve always made my own way in the world. Granted, I don’t usually get to travel first-class. But I pay up front, and I don’t take hand-outs. Am I making myself clear?”

Lydia
wordlessly nodded. Although he didn’t come right out and say it, Ben considered his new employment a form of charity. Clearly, the only reason that he was willing to swallow his pride and go to work for her uncle was to provide a secure home for her and Dixie.

And because of
that, she suddenly feared the next few years would prove difficult ones, indeed.

Somewhat listlessly, Lydia walked over and hung her dress in t
he mirrored wardrobe. That done, she removed her undergarments, taking the time to neatly fold each item, before donning her clean nightdress.

As she pulled back the covers and
got into the large four-poster bed, Lydia anxiously wondered how this latest turn of events would affect their marriage.

Within
a few moments, she had her answer. At least as far as their marriage bed was concerned. After settling himself between the sheets, Ben rolled to the other side of the feather tick, making no move to touch her.

Lydia
, likewise, rolled to her side of the bed, unwilling to beg for her husband’s favor.

“You want me to trim that mustache any?”

“Nah, just give me a shave,” Ben muttered as he settled himself in the barber’s seat.

Having ridden into Uvalde to buy himself some
readymade clothes, Ben had decided to treat himself to a shave while he was there. Though the trip probably could have waited a day or so, he needed to get out of the house and give himself some much needed time to think. To try to figure a way to start up a ranch on a foreman’s wage of $200.00 a month.

Earlier, as he’d strolled p
ast the local bank, Ben briefly considered stepping inside and asking for a loan. That is until he came to his senses. He figured there was no way in hell that a southern-owned bank would lend a dime to a former Union army officer.

As the barber placed a warm, wet towel over his
lower face, Ben stared at the opposite wall, the adobe surface covered in public notices and Wanted posters. For lack of anything better to do, his gaze darted from one Wanted poster to the next.

Sud
denly, his spine straightened.

Flabbergasted,
Ben yanked the towel off his face and lunged out of the barber’s seat, clearing the distance between the chair and the opposite wall in two long-legged strides. Ignoring the barber’s sputtered protests, he snatched one of the Wanted posters off of the wall.

Every now and again, the fates smiled upon a man.
And Sweet Jesus, if this wasn’t one of those times. Because, if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, Ben would never have guessed that Colonel Percy Beaumont was a wanted man with a $5,000 bounty on his head.

“
Do you mean to tell me that you’ve actually
seen
this man?”

“Seen him?” Ben slapped the
Wanted poster onto the sheriff’s desk. “Hell, I had supper with Beaumont just three nights ago.”

Sheriff Merle Jenkins shifted his burly frame in the well-worn chair, the wood frame loudly creaking beneath his weight.
As he examined the Wanted poster, he had a look of guarded hesitation on his face. Like he’d just been given a gift that he didn’t particularly care to receive.

Jenkins jabbed his index finger at the pen-and-ink likeness of the Confederate colonel.
“It says here that this fella Percy Beaumont is a war criminal. That not only did he and his men attack a Federal armory two months
after
the war, but they executed every last soldier stationed at the armory. Nearly a hundred Yankee soldiers all told.”

“All the more reason to r
ound up a posse and go get him,” Ben said vigorously.

“
Well, now, it’s just not as easy as all that.”

“The hell it isn’t!”

Goddammit. What kind of sheriff is Jenkins, anyway? I’m practically giving him Beaumont on a silver platter.

Realizing that he was getting nowhere fast, Ben took a deep breath, trying
his utmost best to keep calm.

“Listen,
Sheriff. I know for a fact that Beaumont is leading a large wagon train south to Mexico. It’s imperative that we catch him before he reaches the Rio Grande.” Because as Ben knew all too well, once Percy Beaumont crossed the border into Mexico, he would be scot-free, and out of the legal domain of American lawmen.

“That must be the same caravan that’s encamped a few miles from here. A couple of ‘em came into town earlier to have a wagon wheel fixed.
Claimed they were from Louisiana, or some such place.”

Hot damn!
Beaumont was only a stone’s throw from Uvalde. They could have him in custody before a new day dawned.

Undeterred by the sheriff’s lack of enthusiasm, Ben said,
“Surely, you’ve got a few deputies who could help in capturing Beaumont?”

“I do.
But if this man really is a dangerous war criminal, I’m thinking we should call in the Texas Rangers and let them handle it.”

“And how about we bring in a gang of Pinkerton detectives while we’re at it,” Ben
snarled, resisting a very strong urge to hurl a fist into Jenkins’ meaty jowls. “I guarantee that Beaumont will be long gone before the Rangers ever get here. Come on, Jenkins. It’s now or never.”

“I don’t know. It sound
s kind of risky, if you ask me,” Jenkins balked, refusing to pick up the gauntlet. “After all, what did this fella Beaumont ever do to me? Or to any of the folks here in Uvalde? Nothing, near as I can tell.”

Despite the fact that
he’d forsworn knocking the sheriff on his fat ass, Ben nevertheless balled his fists. Clearly, Merle Jenkins believed that the good citizens of Uvalde paid him to sit on his haunches while dangerous felons wandered willy-nilly right under his—

I have to give him an incentive
, Ben suddenly realized, figuring that was the only way he could light a fire under the reluctant sheriff.

“
Perhaps twenty-five hundred dollars would make it worth your while,” Ben said offhandedly as he tapped his finger on the five thousand dollar bounty that was clearly indicated on the Wanted poster.

“Make it worth anyone’s while. But
because I’m the town sheriff, I can’t collect on the reward.”

Considering that an inconsequential detail,
Ben shrugged. “Who has to know? It could be our little secret.”

“Let me make sure
that I’m hearing you right.” Leaning forward in his chair, Jenkins’ gaze speculatively narrowed. “After you collect on the five thousand dollar bounty, you’d be willing to give me half of it?”

“
That’s right. So, what do you say, Sheriff?”

Grinning broadly, Jenkins thrust out his right hand.
“I’d say that you got yourself a deal.”

Yeah,
I figured that’s you’d say, you money-grubbing bastard
.

Although
he would have preferred
not
sharing his good fortune, even after he split the bounty with the town sheriff, Ben would still have enough money leftover to start up a ranch. And when all was said and done, that’s all that mattered to him.

C
learly a pleased man, Sheriff Jenkins rubbed his hands together. “Now that we got the haggling out of the way, you got any ideas about how we gonna catch this Beaumont character?”

The smile on Ben’s lips never reached his
wintry gray eyes.

“It just so happens that
I know
exactly
how to snare the bastard.”

Since he had
twelve hours before the plan went into effect, Ben decided to visit the abandoned hacienda that would soon become his and Lydia’s new home.

Urging
his horse to pick up the pace, Ben churned in his mind the ruse that he’d hatched with Sheriff Jenkins. Because they would be greatly outnumbered, even with the half dozen deputies that Sheriff Jenkins promised to round up, Ben figured the best way to catch Beaumont unawares was to ride into the rebel encampment just before dawn. Most of the Southerners would still be asleep, enabling them to unobtrusively pluck Beaumont from his field tent.

Of course, once Lydia found out about the planne
d ambush, she’d raise holy hell, having always been quick to come to Beaumont’s defense. For good reason, Ben had intentionally failed to apprise his wife that Percy Beaumont was transporting contraband weapons, knowing full well that it was an argument he couldn’t win. Even if he’d marched his wife over to Beaumont’s six supply wagons, and even if she’d seen with her own eyes that the bastard was hauling stolen munitions to Mexico, he was fairly certain that Lydia would have defended her fellow Southerner. After all, Percy Beaumont was a ‘gentleman,’ and as such was incapable of committing a dishonorable deed.

To his ire
, Lydia saw the Confederate renegade through rose-tinted glasses. And there wasn’t a damned thing that he could do about it.

Just as there wasn’t a damned thing that Lydia could do to prevent him from capturing Beaumont and collecting on the bounty. That money was his for the taking
, and he’d be a dunderheaded fool to turn his back on it. Furthermore, Ben had every confidence that once Lydia got over her initial vexation, she would appreciate the fact that he’d secured their future; and that they could finance their cattle ranch, unbeholden to her uncle.

Catching sight of the adobe hacienda that he’d soon be calling ‘home,’ Ben
scowled. The plumes of white smoke wafting from the chimney could only mean one thing: someone was burning a fire in
his
fireplace.

Goddam
mit!

Ready for a fight, Ben yanked his Henry rifle out of
the scabbard. Back in Kansas, he’d turned over his farmhouse to a family of squatters. This time, he wasn’t going to be so obliging.

A
s he approached the small adobe house, Ben slowed his horse to a trot. Sighting a hitching post, he gave a slight tug on the reins and headed in that direction. Quickly and quietly, he secured his mount to the weathered post before soft-pedaling to the front porch.

Hefting his Henry rifle to his right shoulder, Ben kicked in the door and stormed inside, ready to do battle.

To his chagrin, rather than finding a gang of squatters, he encountered his wife, on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor.

“Ben! What in God’s name do you think
that you’re doing?” Lydia fairly screamed at him as she lurched to her feet. In one hand, she held a dripping wet sponge; and in the other, she clutched a bucket of soapy water.

Feeling like a horse’s ass, Ben lowered his rifle.
“I, um, thought the house had been taken over by squatters.”

“As you can plainly see that is not the case.”

“Then do you mind telling me what in the blue blazes you’re doing here?” Ben belligerently demanded, his gruff tone masking his embarrassment. “Why aren’t you at your uncle’s hacienda?”

Both questions went unanswered.

With a ladylike calm, Lydia stepped over to the front door. Primly sashaying around him, she unceremoniously dumped the bucket’s contents over the side of the porch railing, dousing the single scraggly bush that landscaped their new front yard.

“I’d hoped to have the housekeeping finished before you arrived,” she
informed Ben as she deposited the bucket by the front door with a noisy huff. “But given that you’re now here, the rest of the cleaning will have to wait until later.”

Ben turned full circle.
In his estimation, the house
was
clean, the floors still wet from having just been scrubbed. Additionally, the few pieces of heavy wood furniture that were scattered around the front room had a newly-polished look to them. As if that wasn’t enough, there was even a pot of rabbit stew simmering on the fire.

“You must have connived your uncle into bringing you out here,”
Ben remarked as he set his rifle on a nearby table, careful not to disturb a welcoming vase of wildflowers.

“If you must know, I managed to get here all by myself.”

“And just how did you do that?”

“The same way that you arrived
; I rode here on a horse.” Assuming an affronted air, Lydia crossed her arms over her chest. “In my youth, I was thought to have quite a seat on me.”

“Still do
the last time that I looked.”

For the first time since he kicked in the front door, Lydia smiled, her cheeks stained with girlish color. “The real reason I came
out here is because I knew that you were planning to stop by the house. And I very much wanted to talk to you . . .
alone
.”

“Well, here I am,”
Ben said with a teasing wink. “Feel free to have at me.”

The smile quickly faded from
Lydia’s lips. “First of all, I think you should know that I was unable to sleep last night.”

Ben’s expression
instantly sobered. With all the hoopla over Beaumont and the bounty money, he’d conveniently forgotten that he and his wife had spent the previous night separated by half a mattress and a sour disagreement.

“You weren’t the only one who couldn’t sleep,” he confessed, their financial woes having put a damper on any romantic inclinations
that he might have had last evening.

“I’ve
pondered at length what you said, about being beholden to Uncle Avery and . . . you’re absolutely right, Ben. We need to have our own home. As well as our own ranch. Which is why I intend to ride into town tomorrow and sell my jewelry. Granted, it won’t fetch a lot of money, but it might be enough for us to start a small ranch. Dixie and I don’t need much. To help make ends meet, I intend to put in a vegetable garden. And I can also raise some chickens so that—” Lydia stopped in mid-sentence, obviously confounded by his reaction to her well-rehearsed speech. “Sir, I demand to know why you’re wearing that foolish grin.”

Her affronted tone caused
the foolish grin to only get that much bigger.

While Ben
had been tempted to stop Lydia before she even got started, he’d been utterly captivated by her speech, his feelings for her growing with each steadfast utterance that had slipped past her rosy-red lips.

Reaching
for Lydia’s hand, Ben pulled her into his arms. When she tried to wiggle free, he refused to relinquish his hold on her.

Uh
-uh, sweet woman. Nothing doing.

“Ben, didn’t you hear a word I
just said?”

Rather than answer
her question, Ben asked one of his own. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”