High Mountain Drifter (25 page)

He exchanged words with the doc, who was untying his team, nodded with relief and slid out of his saddle. He hit the ground running, his straw hat threatening to blow away as a wind gust hit it. With a hand clamped on his head, the youth dashed up the porch steps.

"Are you one of the Miss McPhees?" he asked, out of breath, black eyes hopeful. He was unarmed, harmless but seemed to alarm Burton who launched from the gazebo across the way toward the porch. Poor Burton looked exhausted and nearly frozen solid. Maybe she'd better make him some fresh coffee.

"I'm Verbena," she answered the boy, wrapping her shawl more tightly around her.

"Good. Then this is for you." He dug in his pocket for an envelope with her name scrawled on it in an unfamiliar script. "Here. It's from Mr. Reed. He paid me to deliver it, so no need to worry about a tip."

"Oh." Surprised, she watched as the youth tipped his straw hat politely and dashed off, racing back to his horse. He looked half frozen too (both the boy and the horse, come to think of it), and she considered calling him back and inviting him in, maybe getting a blanket for his horse, but they were racing off before she could speak up.

"Verbena!" Iris hollered from the kitchen, both amused and annoyed.

Verbena shouldered the door shut, cutting her gaze sideways down the hall to see if any sister was standing there being nosy. Of course there was. Two of them.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" she asked.

"No," Rose and Magnolia said simultaneously, standing in the center of the hallway, two golden girls full of unbridled curiosity.

"Is it from him?" Magnolia asked.

"Of course it is, that's what the kid said," Rose told her.

"Oh, I didn't hear that part," Magnolia confessed.

Wisely, Verbena slipped the envelope into her skirt pocket for later reading. Not that curiosity wasn't killing her too, she wanted to know what Zane had taken the time to write to her, but she didn't want her sisters to know. And being the youngest of five girls, she'd learned a long time ago her older sisters thought everything was their business.

"What? You aren't going to read it?" Magnolia looked crushed, and well she should since she was the nosiest of them all. "Oh, now I'm disappointed."

"Me, too," Rose commiserated.

"Well, hello?" Iris called from the kitchen. "Forget your disappointment. I need help with this cake, since Daisy had to run to town and pick up Hailie. That means you too, Magnolia."

"I'll even refrain from licking the spoon this time." Magnolia took a backwards step toward the kitchen. "Don't think we’ll forget about the letter, Verbena."

"That's right. We never forget." Rose pivoted, slender and graceful, hurrying down the hall with a flounce of her blond hair and a bounce of her skirt ruffle. "We'll find out one way or another."

"Go ahead and try," Verbena leaned against the closed door, her mind turning a little dreamy. Upstairs rang a rapid
bam, bam, bam,
echoing through the house. The men at work on Rose's room. "It's probably just a bill for services rendered. I wonder how much he charged us for hunting down those men?"

"He's not charging you, remember?" Magnolia said, still going backwards, perhaps torn between curiosity and her agreement to help Iris with the baking. "He's doing it as a favor for Milo."

"Not entirely true." Verbena shrugged out of her shawl and hung it back up. "I promised him a dozen cupcakes when the job was done."

"We owe him more than that." Magnolia was no longer teasing. Her face crinkled with sincerity. "Maybe a lifetime supply of cupcakes? We could send them to wherever he is at the time. Forever."

"It's a thought." Verbena's step faltered as she retreated back to the parlor. She'd commandeered the room to work on the dress she'd promised to sew. The neatly cut pieces were stacked on the large coffee table, some pinned together, others basted, others waiting for her attention, but Magnolia's words had hit a sore mark. A reminder that Zane's future was out there somewhere. It would never be here.

That hurt more than she wanted to admit. Ribs aching, she eased onto a sofa cushion, let the warmth from the big fireplace wash over her. It didn't drive away her feelings of caring for him. It didn't change the fact that he would never really be hers. Well, life was like that, she thought ruefully, full of things you couldn't have. She slipped a hand inside her skirt pocket. The envelope felt cold from its long ride.

When she pulled it out, she studied Zane's writing. The letters were dark slashes, straight up and down, with no slant. Writing for a no-nonsense, straight forward man.

Fearing he might have changed his mind about coming back, that this might be some sort of goodbye, she slipped her fingernail under the flap and carefully tore the envelope. Heart thudding, she pulled out the sheet of paper and shook it open.

Dear Verbena,

I have Klemp. Found him on the boardwalk outside a saloon. Took him down and hauled him to the local jail where he's cooling his heels while I get some rest and a few meals. It's a rugged ride back to Bear Hollow and I need to be alert. Not that he's much of a threat, but better to be well-rested than under. I'll be back as soon as I can, at the latest the day after tomorrow. Looking forward to seeing you. Oh, spotted the trinket in a window and thought of you.

Yours sincerely,

Zane

#

Relief was the first thing she felt. Klemp was caught, not that she doubted Zane's bounty hunting abilities. She smiled, thrilled because he was coming back to her.
Looking forward
to seeing her. That didn't sound like a goodbye at all, did it? Her pulse tripped over itself as elation zipped through her. How good it would be to see him again, to hear his gruff, gravelly voice, to wonder if he might give her another full, genuine smile.

And he'd mentioned a trinket. Come to think of it, the envelope did feel a little heavy. She gave it a shake and something slid around inside. A present? Delight and curiosity got the best of her. When she peered into the envelope, she spotted the gleam of gold and...was that a diamond?

Yes, she realized, pulling the charm bracelet from the bottom of the envelope. Her jaw dropped, she forgot to breathe. It was a dainty chain of airy, woven gossamers of gold. A single charm swung from tiny links in the shape of a heart, made of polished gold and encircled by diamonds. Not little chips, but fine quality, dazzling white diamonds. When the lamplight hit them, rainbows of color sparkled.

A
little
trinket? That man was the master of understatement. She'd never seen such a fine piece of jewelry. A little shocked, she traced her fingertip across each gem, just admiring it.

"Here, let me help you put that on." Magnolia pushed away from the doorframe where she'd been leaning, the shameless spy that she was, and sailed across the room. "That bounty hunter knows his jewelry. I'm really starting to approve of him. He might turn out to be the best beau you've ever had."

"He's not my beau." Honestly. She rolled her eyes. Sisters. Was nothing private? "He's just being nice."

"Right," Magnolia said a touch sarcastically and rolled her eyes. "Hey, this must mean good news. Did he catch that Klemp guy, the one Aumaleigh told us used to work for the ranch?"

"Yes." Verbena handed over the delicate bracelet. "That means no more guards. No more worrying."

"But what I keep thinking about is that Zane paid a rider to come all this way?" Magnolia took the bracelet and plopped down on the sofa. "That had to be an expensive delivery fee. Something tells me your Zane is rather devoted to you."

"Or just careless with his money," Verbena teased, not that she believed it for a second--Zane was the epitome of self-control. She suspected she might be blushing again, as her nose had turned strawberry red. She could just see the tip of it if she crossed her eyes. Oh well. "The bracelet is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes, very thoughtful and expensive." Magnolia opened the clasp and secured the delicate bracelet around Verbena's wrist. "Look. He's given you his heart. I think that's what this charm means."

"No, you're reading too much into it. I'm sure it was just the charm that was on the bracelet when he spotted it in the window." She held her wrist up so the lamplight would catch the diamonds. They glittered like dozens of tiny stars. "It is absolutely lovely."

"Yes, and just accept the truth. He cares for you. You don’t need to work so hard to protect your heart." Magnolia bopped to her feet with a swirl of calico. Her emerald engagement ring glittered merrily in the light too. "For one, everyone can see how you feel about him. For another, it never works. You can put up all the barriers you want, deny your feelings all you possibly can, but it doesn't matter. You'll just be left with the same feelings anyway. Trust me, I've tried it. The heart does what it chooses."

"That's what I'm afraid of." Alone with her sister, with the warm fire dancing in the hearth and the cozy feeling of lamplight, she could no longer hold back the truth. Maybe Magnolia was right, that this was more than a pretty little trinket he'd bought on a whim.

And he was coming back to her. Hope lifted through her as bright and merry as the flames in the hearth. She didn't know how this thing, this relationship between them would end--it didn't take a genius to know this would never be a happily-ever-after--but for now she was happy. That was gift enough.

A weak sun shone behind mottled clouds, sending out no real warmth in the windy afternoon. Hardened, iced snow crackled and crunched beneath Zane's boots as he hopped down from the rickety cart he'd commandeered from Klemp, who was cuffed and chained in the back.

The little farmstead spoke of hard times. The shanty with tarpaper for siding, some of which had peeled off. A hole where the stove pipe had been, the stove had likely been sold for traveling money. The sod barn looked abandoned, the doors open, the two stalls inside empty. Had the family already departed?

That would be too bad. Zane ground his molars together, blaming Klemp for that too. Winchester and Scout, tied behind the cart, gave equally grim looks at the lonely dwellings and property. Maybe the neighbors would know where the family went?

"Uh, hello?" A man's voice called from the fields. A few more steps brought him out of the shadows of the house and into sight.

Good. Zane nodded with satisfaction and hefted his rifle higher on his shoulder. "We spoke yesterday. Do you remember?"

"I do." The weary looking farmer glanced nervously at the rifle, then beyond to his cart and mule in the drive beyond. A little hope seemed to lift him up. "Why, that's Maybelle."

"Found her and your cart when I caught up with the man who robbed you." He strolled over to Scout and slid the rifle into the saddle holster. "Even have the quilts he took from your wife. They're folded up in back."

"Why, I just don't--" The farmer teared up, held his fist to his mouth, trying to get a hold of himself. "I don't know quite what to say."

"No problem." Zane reached into his pocket. "I recovered some of that money he took from you, found it when I patted him down for weapons. I don't know if it's all there, but I'll leave you his possessions as restitution. His gun and hunting knives might fetch you something."

"You mean that you're giving me back my money?" The farmer stared at the roll of greenbacks, reached for them with a shaking hand. "Figure most folks would have pocketed that for themselves. No one woulda been the wiser."

"Not most folks," Zane assured him. He might have grown up with an outlaw father, he'd seen first hand the darkness in the heart of men who preyed on others, and he'd spent his adult life hunting those men down, but he was starting to see there was more good than bad in this world. He untied his horses from the back of the cart. "I'm sorry for what you've gone through here. Hope better times are ahead."

"Thank you, sir, I do too." He tucked the roll of bills into his coat pocket.

"Then I'll be on my way." Zane unlatched the tailgate and hauled Klemp out of the cart by his cuffed ankles. Dropped his hog-tied body to the ground like a sack of potatoes. "Good luck to you."

"You, too." The farmer stared at Klemp, shackled and subjugated, a miserable excuse for a man, but didn't say a thing.

Zane dragged his quarry across the frozen ground, hauled him up on Scout's back, tied him with the packs. The man groaned, cursed under his breath, but they'd come to an understanding. If Klemp stayed silent, he got to keep his clothes. It'd be a much colder ride otherwise.

After Zane mounted Winchester and turned the horses down the drive, the farmer's wife came running out of the shanty, a baby on her hip, a toddler at her skirts. She burst into tears at the sight of the mule. Zane smiled. At least the family had the animal to sell and something to start over with.

Satisfied, he rode off into the wintry beams of the sun, heading northwest. As if Scout knew the importance of the journey, that this mattered more than any other ride they'd taken, he picked up his pace and kept it up, charging across the high Montana plains, toward the foothills and mountains where Verbena lived. Where, he hoped, she was waiting.

Tucked up in the second story of the kitchen house on the Rocking M, Aumaleigh sat at the desk that had been her mother's, and reached high over her head, stretching. Oh, that felt good, she thought, wincing when her back gave a little pop. It was interesting getting older.

She stared out the window before her, at the gentle downward slope of the fields where a herd of horses grazed. It felt good to rest her eyes. She'd been sorting through Mother's old papers all afternoon. Why her mother wanted to keep all this old junk and paperwork, she didn't know. Then again, Maureen McPhee had never made sense to her.

Shaking her head, Aumaleigh went back to work, diving into the next box. At least she had some downtime now that they'd hit the quiet time on the ranch. She dropped a handful of old accounts payable ledger sheets onto the desktop and sorted through them. Felt great relief there had been no more discovered letters from Gabriel. She wasn't sure that she could take that--not that she imagined Gabriel would have written her more than once. The man clearly had moved on from what they'd shared.