Pete (The Cowboys) (28 page)

But he knew he wouldn’t. He’d told enough lies already.

Then, of course, there was Anne. He’d already taken advantage of her once. He couldn’t fool himself into thinking he would stay on his side of the bed tonight. The longer he stayed, the more they made love, the more deeply she would fall in love with him. He had no right to do that to Anne. He had to leave.

“Well, don’t stand here arguing,” Dolores said. “I held supper back hoping you’d get here before it got cold or dried out.”

“We have things to discuss,” the sheriff said.

“Then discuss them at the table,” Dolores said. “If you don’t eat now, I’m going to throw it out.”

So they ate supper. Anne and Pete took their places at opposite ends of the table. The sheriff and Mrs. Dean sat on one side, Dolores and Ray on the other. Pete and the sheriff were soon talking about the roundup and conditions on the range. For once Mrs. Dean didn’t seem anxious to force the issue. Pete decided she thought it was improper to discuss important matters in front of the help. For once, Pete was glad of her snobbery.

But it couldn’t be postponed forever. By the time dinner was over, Anne was trying to suppress yawns. Pete felt sorry for her. She hadn’t gotten any rest last night. She wasn’t used to sleeping on the ground or outside. She’d started at noises all night. She’d kept him awake as well. He was nearly as tired as she was, but he wasn’t the least bit sleepy. In a short time they were going to be in their bed together, alone. After last night, he knew he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Even now he could remember the feel of her skin as though he were still touching it. He would remember the taste of her until his dying day.

“It’s time for you to seek your bed,” Mrs. Dean said to Anne. “You’ve been yawning for the last quarter of an hour.”

“I am tired,” Anne confessed. “I never realized riding fifteen miles on horseback could be so tiring.”

“I’m surprised you aren’t prostrate from fatigue,” Mrs. Dean said. “I know I wouldn’t be able to rise from my bed for at least a week.”

“I can’t afford to stay in bed that long. Dolores wants to give the house a good cleaning while the men are away.”

“Good. That will keep your mind off wondering what will happen to you when this man”—she directed a hostile look at Pete—“is shown up for the imposter that he is.”

“She won’t have to worry about that no matter who this man proves to be,” the sheriff said, reaching into his pocket.

Every eye turned to the sheriff.

“I haven’t had a chance to tell you, but a sworn affidavit to Anne’s marriage to Peter Warren ought to be coming in a few days. Once I have that, whether she’s Peter Warren’s wife or his widow, this ranch will be hers.”

“She’s only seventeen,” Pete said. “If anything were to happen to me, would her uncle have control over her again?”

“No. Out here a married woman can take control of her own affairs, no matter how young she is.”

A weight lifted off Pete’s shoulders at the same time a screw in his belly tightened another couple of turns. Anne would be safe. The ranch belonged to her. He could leave now.

“That’s all nonsense,” Anne said. “The ranch belongs to Pete. I’m not a widow.”

“How do you know?” Mrs. Dean asked. “He probably killed your husband. I’ve told you—”

“I know what you’ve told me, but I don’t believe it. Even if for some reason Pete weren’t Peter, he still wouldn’t be a murderer.” Anne looked down the table, love shining in her eyes. “I love him. I trust him with my life. I know he couldn’t kill anyone.”

Pete’s heart leapt into his throat. Agony and ecstasy fought for supremacy. While ecstasy won now, he knew it would be agony that would ultimately claim the victory.

“You can’t love that man!” Mrs. Dean exclaimed. “I forbid it!”

“It would be wise to keep your feelings in check for a while yet,” the sheriff said. “He’s still under suspicion of murder.”

“He didn’t kill Belser. I told you he never left the bed that night.”

“What about Peter?” Mrs. Dean asked. “We don’t know where that man has left poor Peter’s body.”

“He didn’t kill Belser, and he obviously didn’t kill himself,” Anne said, her voice rising. “The sheriff says this is my house. If it is, I can do anything I want. I won’t have anybody here who keeps saying my husband is an imposter and a murderer. If you can’t stop, you can leave immediately.”

“It’s pitch black outside,” Mrs. Dean declared. “You can’t expect the sheriff to start back to town at this hour.”

“I meant you, too.”

“Me!” It was clear the idea that she should control her tongue or be forced to leave had never crossed Mrs. Dean’s mind.

“Yes,” Anne said, not backing down. “I appreciate your coming here to watch out for me, but I don’t need it. And, I won’t have you calling my husband a murderer.”

Every eye in the room remained focused on Anne. Apparently no one was able to believe that the mild-mannered girl they knew had turned into such a forceful woman. Pete smiled with pride. Though his intention had been honorable in the beginning, he hadn’t cut a very chivalrous figure during these last days. Still, he could take pride in knowing he’d had a crucial part in helping Anne come out of her protective shell, in helping her find her place in her home and in local society. She was smart, beautiful, and determined.

She’d do.

Pete pushed his chair away from the table. “Before we fall into a wrangle, let me suggest we all go to bed. Anne is tired. Mrs. Dean and Dolores have had a trying time worrying about Anne, the sheriff made a long ride, and I’ve been through a roundup. Only Ray here isn’t yawning into his fist.”

Ray blushed.

Mrs. Dean got to her feet and moved to Anne’s side. “I hope you don’t think you’re sleeping in Anne’s bed.” As she said that, she put her arm across Anne’s bosom as though to protect her from a frontal attack.

“As a matter of fact—”

“We don’t know who you are. Until we do, I can’t allow you to compromise Anne any further.”

“Really, Mrs. Dean, I think I can sleep with my husband without compromising myself.”

“The sheriff hasn’t gotten his papers yet,” Mrs. Dean said. She didn’t move or moderate her glare, which challenged Pete to defy her.

“After Mrs. Dean said you were an imposter, I wired for a physical description,” the sheriff said. “The lawyer said it ought to be here in a day or two. We’ll know then.”

“Until then you must maintain separate bedrooms,” Mrs. Dean declared.

“No,” Anne said.

“I don’t see any reason—” Pete began.

“I’ll stand at her door all night,” Mrs. Dean declared. “I’ll throw myself across your bed if necessary, but you will not violate this child until you can prove you are truly her husband.”

“This could be several days,” the sheriff said.

“This is ridiculous,” Anne said. “I will not be bullied.”

But Mrs. Dean was insistent. She called upon Dolores and the sheriff to support her. When she didn’t get the unqualified support she wanted, she turned to Ray. The poor startled boy blushed from neck to hairline and remained inarticulate. Finally she appealed to Pete’s better nature.

“I don’t think imposters and murderers have a better nature,” he said. “Except for mothers and sisters, they probably want to ravish every female they see. It isn’t that they don’t want to have a better nature. They just can’t help it.”

“Young man, I will not be made fun of.”

Pete had had enough. Mrs. Dean was probably Providence in disguise come to keep him from doing what he knew would be wrong. He ought to take the chance he’d been given, accept it gracefully, and get out before he did something he’d really regret.

“I won’t sleep with Anne,” Pete said. “I’ll sleep in Belser’s old room.”

“I won’t have an unidentified man sleep under the same roof with me,” Mrs. Dean said.

“This is my house,” Anne said. “I’ll say who sleeps where, and I want my husband to sleep with me.”

“It’ll just be until the description comes,” Pete said.

“But—”

“It’s not worth fighting over,” Pete said. “The sheriff and I will sleep in the bunkhouse with Ray. That way you can lock the doors, and Mrs. Dean can feel perfectly safe.”

“This is ridiculous. How can you let—”

Pete put his finger over her lips. “I don’t like it either, but we’ve got years ahead. It seems a lot now, but you’ll forget it before long.”

“I’ll never forget it,” she said. “Or forgive it,” she added, directing the last to Mrs. Dean.

“I still have my bedroll,” Pete said to the sheriff. “You ready?”

“Sure. I hope you don’t snore.”

“He doesn’t,” Anne said, directing a triumphant look at Mrs. Dean. “He breathes very softly while he’s asleep. I’ve listened to him often.”

Pete was glad Mrs. Dean had the good sense to keep her mouth shut for once. He didn’t know what Anne meant to say to her later, but the glitter in her eye made him regret he wouldn’t be there to hear it.

“That was decent of you,” the sheriff said as they walked toward the bunkhouse.

“No point to putting people’s backs up unnecessarily. Are you really expecting the description by tomorrow?”

“It should have been here with the affidavit.”

“What about the other papers?”

“It’ll take a while before they get here.”

“Can Anne do business for the ranch in the meantime?”

“I don’t see why not. Her claim isn’t in dispute.”

That was all he needed to know. He’d tell her tomorrow. No, he’d wait until Mrs. Dean left. Hearing the truth was going to be hard. Making Anne listen to it front of that woman would be cruel. “I hope you don’t mind sleeping in the bunkhouse,” Pete said to the sheriff “It’s not fancy.”

“I’ve slept in worse. I bet you have, too.”

Worse was about all he was going to have for a long time to come. There were no luxuries in the goldfields.

“Mrs. Dean wishes to return to Big Bend today,” Anne announced as soon as they’d finished their breakfast. She turned to the sheriff. “I’d be obliged if you’d escort her.”

“Sure, but I thought—”

“I’m being thrown out, Owen,” Mrs. Dean said, her brow even more thunderous than it had been during the meal. “Anne said I’m no longer welcome in her home.”

“I’m surprised you thought you would be,” Anne said. “You’ve lost no opportunity to call my husband an imposter and a murderer. Last night you had the effrontery to drive him from his own house.”

“I was only trying to protect you.”

“I’m a grown woman. I can protect myself.”

“You’re still a girl.”

“I’m a married woman. This is my home. You are no longer welcome.”

Mrs. Dean flounced from the table. “Be so good as to see that my box is placed in the buckboard,” she said to Ray. She completely ignored Pete. “I will be ready as soon as I get my coat.” She turned back to Anne. “Before long, young woman, you will look back on this day and wish to God you could do it over again.”

“You didn’t have to leave. All I asked was that you stop slandering my husband.”

“The man is a liar and a killer,” Mrs. Dean declared. “It is my duty as a Christian woman to see he is unmasked.”

“Then you ought to be satisfied.”

Anne had thought she’d be quaking in her boots when the time finally came, but she felt quite calm. She’d been so angry the night before when Mrs. Dean drove Pete to sleep in the bunkhouse, she’d lost her temper—and her fear of the formidable woman—and told her she was surprised she’d stooped to slander and innuendo to find something interesting to fill her dull days. The resulting argument only served to make Anne angry enough to conclude by saying Mrs. Dean would have to leave in the morning.

But she’d spent the night tossing in her bed being angry at Mrs. Dean, missing Pete, and regretting she’d lost her temper. By morning, she’d almost made up her mind to apologize. Mrs. Dean’s continued attacks on Pete’s character overwhelmed that impulse. She was actually glad to tell Mrs. Dean to leave.

The silence that followed Mrs. Dean’s departure to her room nearly unnerved Anne. Fortunately, Pete came over, took her hand, and gave it a squeeze.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said. “I don’t care what she says.”

“I do. She has no right.”

He kissed the top of her head. “People are going to do all kinds of things they have no right to do. It’ll drive you crazy if you let it. Just ignore them.”

“I don’t know how you can.”

“I’m a lot older. I’ve been called a lot of things in my life.”

“You won’t be if I have anything to do with it.”

“My, but you’ve turned into a fierce little kitten.”

“Kittens are babies. I’m a lioness. I’m not afraid of anybody.” And much to her surprise, she found she wasn’t. If she could stand up to Mrs. Dean—a woman who frightened every woman and half the men of Big Bend—she could stand up to anyone.

Mrs. Dean came down carrying her coat and a small suitcase. “You will be sorry, young woman. Mark my words.”

Anne and Pete followed Mrs. Dean outside. As they watched silently, the sheriff settled Mrs. Dean into the buckboard. Before he could reach for her luggage, they heard first one shot and then another come from somewhere beyond the hills east of the ranch buildings.