Authors: Beverly Jenkins
“But things went slightly bizarre after that.” Ian then told her how bizarre.
Maggie couldn't believe her ears. “Ian, this can't be true. Who would take the skin off a corpse and send it to a tannery with a note saying, âPlease turn this into a pair of shoes and a medical bag'?”
“Dr. John Osborne,” Charlie said.
“When did this happen?”
“Back in '82,” Charlie said.
Ian had a further twist in the story to impart. “Osborne's a pretty big politician now. May even run for governor in the next election.”
“What happened to the shoes?”
Ian grinned. “He's wearing them.”
Maggie stared agape. “You're joshing?”
“Nope.”
Wide-eyed she stared between the men.
Ian saluted her with his empty shot glass. “Welcome to the Dakotas, darlin'.”
After the meal was done, Maggie stood and began clearing the table. Ian watched to see how this would play out and sure enough an argument ensued. She wanted to help. Charlie wanted her to sit and rest.
“How am I supposed to learn where everything goes?”
“When you get rested up.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“This is not up for discussion.”
He paused and looked her up and down. “Not used to folks telling you no, are you?”
“No I'm not. I've worked other people's homes all my life because I had to. Now I'm in my own home. I want to work for myself for a change.”
Charlie looked to Ian, who declined to intervene. “I'm not getting in this. I've learned she's a lot more dangerous than she appears.”
Maggie took a break from her stance to shoot him a smile before refocusing her attention on Charlie. “So, what's it to be? Do I help, or do I nag you to death?”
He grinned. “I like her.”
“Knew you would,” Ian said.
Charlie finally nodded. “Okay. You win.”
“Thank you.”
L
ater, Maggie was seated on the porch under the stars. Ian and Charlie were out in the barn checking on the horses. She was savoring how wonderful it felt to be sitting on her own porch of her very own home when suddenly her stomach fluttered, and a familiar tingling between her thighs stole her joy. Her monthly bleeding had made its appearance. Disappointed at the timing and the knowledge that she wasn't carrying a child, she went to find the men.
They were pitching clean straw into the horses' stalls and looked up when she entered. “Are there any old pillow slips or sheets I may use?”
She could tell by the puzzlement on her husband's face that he had no idea what she was about. She sighed. A woman's monthly wasn't something to be publicly discussed, especially with men, and she was embarrassed by the reality of having to do so, but she had no supplies. Charlie, however, took one look at her and set aside his pitchfork.
“Come on,” he said. “I've some slips you can use.”
“Thank you.”
Ian still appeared confused, but she didn't enlighten him and followed Charlie out of the barn.
Later with everything in place, Maggie crawled into bed. Lying down was a luxury. Usually life forced her to endure the awful cramping and pain that accompanied her time of the month because her employers didn't care if she wasn't feeling up to par. Wood still had to be chopped, floors swept and mopped, along with all the rest of the duties she was being paid to perform. This, however, was heaven.
Charlie looked in on her once she was settled. “How're you doing?”
“I'm doing well, thank you.”
“Brought you something that might help.”
It was a warm toddy made of unknown ingredients but it tasted good and slightly alcoholic. “What's in this?” she asked, using a spoon to stir the concoction he'd brought on a saucer and tray.
“Little bit of this and that, and a splash or two of spirits. I used to make it for my third wife. Or was it my fourth?”
She gave him a weak smile.
He made her drink it down. “You should have another one in a couple hours.”
Because of the way her head was pleasantly floating, she wasn't sure if she should agree. “Is Ian about?”
“He's out in the hallway pacing like a puma. Should I send him in?”
“Please.” The toddy was coursing through her body that now seemed to be floating as well. “I think I'm getting tipsy.”
He grinned. “Maybe less whiskey next time?”
“I think so.”
“Okay. I'll send him in.”
Charlie left and Ian came in. He sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed. “How are you?”
“Charlie and I think I'm tipsy.”
He chuckled.
“He's going to use less spirits in my next dose.” Her voice turned serious. “I'm sorry there's no baby.”
He caressed her brow. “Quite all right, we'll work on fixing that once you're ready.”
“And our wedding night.”
“That, too.”
“I wanted to wear my new peignoir.”
His eyebrow raised. “You have a new peignoir?”
“Yep. Bought it at Bethany's shop. It's black and has two little roses instead of frogs. You'll like it.”
“I'm sure I will.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure?”
“Why didn't you come in earlier?”
“My mother and Tilda used to lock themselves away during their times of the month, so I didn't think you wanted me here.”
“Silly man. I always want you here.”
She saw amusement in his eyes.
“What's so funny?”
“You, precious one.”
“I like hearing you calling me that. You're pretty precious yourself, and you looked very handsome when you came to get me at Bethany's. I think she wanted to steal you.”
“I think you should get some sleep.”
“No. I'd rather talk to you.”
“Then how about I tell you a bedtime story?”
“I'd like that.”
He sat silent for a long moment and began. “Once upon a time there was a beautiful Scottish princess who fell in love with a man of the sea. He couldn't stay long with her, so before he sailed away, he left her a giftâa curly-haired son.”
She stilled.
“Her father the king was very angry when he found out what the princess had done and banished the princess and her son from his lands forever.”
Maggie searched his eyes. This wasn't what she'd been expecting and because of that the tipsiness fled. “Where'd they go?”
“To the largest city in the realm, but the princess knew nothing about living away from the castle. She didn't know how to cook, or how to find a new place to stay, or even where to start, so she traded on the only things she had, her beauty, her lovely singing voice, and her wit.”
He paused for a moment and she could tell he was reflecting on the past. “But she and her son still had to struggle, so she learned how to slip away in the middle of the night when she had no funds to pay the landlords, and how to steal food, pick pockets, and cut purses, and she taught her son the same so they could eat and not have to sleep outside in the gutters in the rain and snow.”
“Oh, Ian,” she whispered.
“Life got better after a while. The princess found a very powerful protector who took them in. He loved her very much and because he had a kind heart, he sent her son away to school.”
“That was nice of him.”
“But the son didn't like it there because the other boys laughed at his curly hair and each night after prayers, they beat him and kicked him and dragged him from his bed to tie him to trees and force him to eat mud, and poured coal oil over him so he'd look like the night.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“But he got taller and stronger and began to fight back. He became so successful at seeking revenge on his tormentor that he was expelled and told not to return. The princess and the protector were understanding and let him finish his studies with them.”
His eyes swung to Maggie and held hers for a long moment. “Then the son went to America, and there he found a princess of his own. She had no parents, and had spent her life on her knees scrubbing and begging and being kicked and called terrible names, and he asked her to be his wife.”
He reached out and brushed away the tears on her cheeks. “And she said yes, and made the son happier than he'd ever been in his life.”
Maggie covered his hand with hers and said softly, “And they lived happily ever after.”
He brought her fingertips to his lips and kissed them. “Yes.”
“I'm glad the story has a happy ending.”
“So am I.” He leaned down and kissed her. “Now, get some sleep, princess. I'll be beside you when you wake up.”
“Promise?”
“Always.”
So Maggie slid back beneath the bedding, and he doused the lamp on the nightstand and left her alone. Lying in the silence, she thought back on the story. It had given her many of the missing pieces she'd been curious about and now that she had them, one thing was crystal clear: she would love the multifaceted Ian Vance with all her heart for the rest of her life.
When Ian returned to the front room, Harper July was standing by the hearth taking off his gun belt.
“Welcome back, Ian. You were gone so long I thought you'd gotten yourself abducted by one of those Scottish lassies.”
“Good to be home. You look bushed.”
“I am. Chasing rustlers. What is this I hear about you and a wife? Is she a Scot?”
“No. Black and Kaw.”
“Really? Probably beautiful then.”
“I think so. Which means you'll have to find somewhere else to hole up until Vivian lets you back in.”
“Charlie told you?”
“Yes.”
He sighed. “Most hardheaded woman I've ever met.”
“You cheated on her?”
“Not in the physical sense.”
“Did you tell her that?”
“Tried. I came home after three days of being in the saddle chasing rustlers. I wanted a bath, my dinner, and my wife, not necessarily in that order. She wasn't home. I got my dinner, took a bath, went to town to find her, only to be told she was in Cheyenne at some kind of women's rights meeting. Went back home, got up the next morning, rode to Cheyenne, and after finding her was told, âI'm busy right now, Harper. I'll be home in a couple days.' ”
Ian shook his head.
“I missed my wife. Been missing her since the day she was elected mayor. Call me selfish but I don't like sharing. So I went and had some drinks with Charlene.”
“At the cathouse in Laramie?”
“Yeah. How Vivy found out, I don't know, but she did. Next I know, we're arguing, she's crying, I'm swearing. She told me I was no longer welcome, and I left.”
Ian felt sorry for his friend. As Charlie'd said, Harp and Vivy loved each other like the mountains loved snow. Ian hoped they'd be able to come together and recognize that before it was too late. “So now you're divorced?”
“Yep.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Me too.”
“Tell me about Draper.”
“He's trying to take advantage of all the ranchers caught short by the blizzard last year and loaning them the money they need to start over.”
The blizzard of 1888 killed most of the cattle on the plains. From Kansas to Wyoming they froze to death. Many ranchers were now scrambling to rebuild their herds. “How are the big associations responding?”
“For the most part ignoring him. He can't possibly make a move on them, they're bigger, stronger, and better armed, and they know it. So he's putting pressure on the smaller ranches, hoping to convince them to join him because they'll owe him for bailing them out.”
“I ran into one of his hired guns today. Man by the name of Pratt Ketchum.”
“Met him. How do you know him?”
Ian explained.
Harper sighed. “Wonderful. That's all we need, a madman.”
“Who else is on Draper's payroll?”
Harper recited the names, but they weren't men Ian was familiar with.
Harper added, “Draper has this idea that after he consolidates all the small herds, he's going to drive them up to the rail lines in Canada because the big associations have the southern routes into Laramie and Cheyenne in their pockets. He's already got his route in mind, too. And guess whose land his main drive will have to go through?”
Cattle needed water on a drive and Night Hawk was one of the few ranches with fresh water flowing through it. “Mine.”
“Yes, so it's a good thing you're back.”
Ian thought so, too. “Whose side is Tom Benton on?”
“His own as usual, but Draper needs Tom's support. He knows Tom hates the big boys and if Draper could get him on board that would be a tall feather in his cap. But we know Tom's not stupid. He's sticking to his guns, and Draper's not happy. Henny thinks her father should throw in with Draper, too. Draper has her convinced the profit will be higher than what she and Tom are getting now down in Laramie.” Harper studied Ian for a moment. “Henny know you're married?”
“Yes, she was here to welcome me home.”
“That must've been a scene.”
“My wife, Maggie, handled it well. Henny didn't. I wound up riding away from her.”
“Looks like it's going to be an interesting summer.”
“Sure does.”
“I'll move my gear out in the morning. Guess I'll have to start sleeping in my office.”
“Or work on getting your wife to change her mind.”
“The mountains will dance first. I'm going to bed.”
“See you in the morning.”
Alone, Ian sat and thought back on what he'd learned from Harper. No one knew anything about Draper before he showed up in the county three years ago, except he claimed to be from back East. Wherever his origins, he'd arrived with enough money in his pockets to purchase a good-sized portion of land. Not as much as Ian owned, or Henny's father, Tom Benton, whose land stretched almost to the Wind River mountains, but enough that he figured he should have a say in what went on politically and economically. Many of the neighboring ranchers disagreed, mostly because Draper didn't know beans about cattle or horses. He claimed to know money, however, and had talked a few locals into investing in some enterprises he had a hand in. Ian had no idea how that turned out because he hadn't invested a dime and had no plans to alter his position. Last winter's blizzard had left folks vulnerable to smooth talkers like Draper, especially when that talk had money dangling on the end of it like bait on a line. He decided to put Draper out of his mind. Whatever Draper and Pratt Ketchum were up to would eventually come to light, so he'd face it then.
Ian stepped out onto the porch and looked up at the stars. He was glad to be home. No more trains, or too small beds, or bad food, or hunting down men like prey. For the first time in years he felt at peace, and knew that a lot of that feeling was rooted in the small, feisty jewel sleeping in his bed. He felt so blessed to have found her. Nothing before had ever moved his heart as forcefully as she'd done. It hadn't been his intention to tell her his story in the way that he had. Once he started he couldn't stop and the dregs of bitterness that had been festering inside bubbled up and now seemed drained away. He'd shared details of his school life he'd never shared with anyone else, not even his mother. Now, however, Maggie knew what he'd endured, who he was, and how he'd come to be the man she'd agreed to marry. He felt cleansed and freed of the demons that had perpetually stalked his soul since that part of his life. Maggie had listened and she'd wept just as he had done night after torturous night. So he would reward her for what she'd given him by loving her with every breath he took, and with every beat of his heart for as long as he lived. A verse from Solomon filled him:
Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death.