Just Her Type (10 page)

Luke forced his eyes away from mountaintops shrouded with gray clouds. “So what's wrong, Douglas?”

The youngster muttered, “Nothing.”

“You sound just like your mother. She goes around glowering and says nothing's wrong. Are all of you McCravens alike?”

“Yes, we're alike. We take care of each other, and we don't like people who use us.”

“I'm not using your mother.” He pulled back on the reins. “Listen, I—”

Douglas sent his pony racing off along the trail. Luke swore and followed. If the boy was trying to leave a greenhorn in the dust, he would learn he could not lose Luke this easily. He steered his horse around a huge outcropping and into a narrow valley. He saw specks in the distance. Steers.

Douglas slowed. “You want to see O'Grady's herd?”

“Sure.”

“We have to go through this stand of trees.” Douglas pointed to a small hill on the left. “Stay close. I wouldn't want you to get lost.”

As Luke scowled, Douglas grinned. He had not guessed it would be this easy. Maybe Luke was not as smart as he wanted everyone to believe. He ducked his head as he rode through the trees and reached up for a heavy pine branch. Pulling it aside, he called, “Look over there. That's where they hanged a cattle rustler last year.”

“Over there?”

“Yeah.” He smiled as the branch whipped back at Luke.

When Douglas heard a body hitting the ground, he grabbed the riderless horse's reins and let out a cheer. On Luke's long walk back to Bentonville, he could think about how much he had hurt Ma and how stupid he would be to do that again.

Luke Bradfield was getting what he deserved.

Aaron O'Grady ushered Mackenzie into the house that stood next to the barn displaying the OG Star Ranch brand. As she untied the ribbons on her bonnet, she smiled a greeting at Alma, the housekeeper. The heavyset woman was, as always, as neat as the house.

“
Buenos días. Señora
McCraven.”

“How are you, Alma?”

“The knee. You know.” She shrugged with resignation. “A cool drink,
señora
?”

“Whatever you have will be fine.”

The housekeeper took Aaron's dusty hat. “And you, sir?”

“Whiskey. On ice. Mackenzie would like lemonade.”

“Shall I serve on the terrace?”

He shook his head. “Right here. We had enough sun on the way out.” Putting his hand on Mackenzie's elbow, he asked, “Shall we, darlin'?”

Mackenzie drew her arm away as they walked into the large front room. Even the abundance of furniture could not make it cozy. She had never asked where Aaron had gotten the gilt-covered tables. Probably from Chicago or New York.

She sat on a large chair. Shifting so her shoes were on the floor, she stared at the animal heads nailed to the fieldstone fireplace. Between an elk's and a mountain lion's was one she had not seen before.

“When did you shoot that timber wolf?” Her voice trembled. The mere mention of wolves should not remind her of hearing them while Luke kissed her. He was off calling on Lacey Langhorne, who would be eager for his caresses.
Good! The two of you deserve each other
.

“During the winter.” Aaron handed her a frosted glass of lemonade. “Has it been that long since you've visited, Mackenzie?”

“I'd prefer not to speak of my last visit.”

He laughed. “As you want to get right to business, let me tell you that I don't want you accepting any more advertisements from Rutherford.”

“Why not?”

“It's sure to cause trouble.”

She sipped the lemonade. “There's trouble already. When rustlers can sneak in and steal one hundred head of cattle, then someone must be helping them.”

“That's Rutherford's problem.”

“How do you know it won't be your problem next?”

He leaned forward to rest broad hands on his wool trousers. “Mackenzie, Rutherford's a businessman, not a cattleman. Things like that won't happen on the OG Star.”

“Be that as it may, I won't refuse an advertisement because you think it's a waste of Mr. Rutherford's money.”

“I don't care how Rutherford squanders his money. I'm just thinking of you. That advertisement is stirring up more trouble by turning men against each other.”

“I mentioned that to Mr. Rutherford, but he believed unmasking the rustlers was more important.”

He shook his head in amusement. “Darlin', you're as gullible as you are beautiful.”

She scowled. Although he had not said so—today—Aaron thought no woman was capable of running a newspaper. “You think so?”

“Jamison Rutherford has no intention of paying that reward. He wants the publicity to bring more business to Bentonville—and under his thumb.”

“Bringing more business isn't a bad idea.”

“Having it under his thumb is.”

Putting her glass on a table, she said, “Aaron, Mr. Rutherford told me he's eager to sit down with you and Connolly to work out a truce.”

He snorted. “And my horse is going to fly to the moon.”

“You don't have to be so melodramatic.”

He clasped her hands between his. “Mackenzie, you're a dreamer. If you can't see through Rutherford, of all men, you need someone to protect you.” His fingers tightened. “I've made you the offer more than once.”

She stood. “And I've told you more than once that my life is my son and the
Bugle
. There's no room for anyone else in it.”

Rising, he stepped so close that she bumped into the chair behind her. “Not even Bradfield?”

“I can assure you there's nothing but business between me and Luke Bradfield.” After today, she added silently. “I think I should leave.”

“Mackenzie—”

She whirled. “The answer is no! I don't want to be your mistress—”

“Who said anything about you being my mistress?” He folded her hands between his. “I'm asking you to be my wife, Mackenzie.”

She stared at him. “Your wife?”

“Why not, darlin'?” He grasped her shoulders. “You have a hard life in Bentonville. Let me give you the life Cameron wanted you to have. A good life.”

She blinked back tears. Cameron
had
promised her that someday they would live in the hills and raise their son on the open ranges. “Aaron—”

“Say yes, darlin'. We'll get married right away.” He chuckled. “You can put ‘Just Married' in big letters on the last issue of the
Bugle.
”

“I'll decide what goes into
The Bentonville Bugle
, and it won't be an announcement of our wedding.” She walked out of the room.

Hearing his footsteps, Mackenzie reached for her bonnet and tied it under her chin. She went out into the warm afternoon. Before she could step off the porch, a lanky man raced up the stairs, almost knocking her off her feet.

“Idiot!” shouted Aaron. “Didn't you see Mackenzie there?”

The cowboy gulped a hurried apology, then whispered, “Got to talk to you, Mr. O'Grady. Now!”

“I'll be back in an hour.”

“Can't wait that long.” Bending, he whispered in his boss's ear.

Aaron's face blanched. “Will you excuse me, Mackenzie?”

“Trouble?”

“I don't have time to explain now. Truett, take her back to town. Then you can bring the buggy here, in case we need it for—” He ran across the verandah. “I'll see you later, Mackenzie.”

“Ready?” asked Truett, motioning to the waiting buggy.

Mackenzie let him hand her into the buggy. A smile tilted her lips. She knew Truett. He could never keep a secret. Aaron must be really upset if he had forgotten how last year Truett had spilled the truth about Aaron's plan to buy the land south of the railroad tracks.

She curbed her patience until they had driven through the gate where a copy of the OG Star brand rocked in the wind. When they turned onto the road leading into Bentonville, she murmured, “What's the trouble?”

“O'Grady wouldn't like it if I said,” Truett answered, looking over his shoulder.

“Why not? If there's trouble, it won't be kept quiet.”

Truett wiped his dusty beard with his equally dirty shirtsleeve. “I guess it'll be all over town by nightfall.” He stared ahead. “Trouble on the north range. More than fifty dogies have vanished. Poof!”

“Just like Rutherford's?”

“Don't go putting that I told you in the
Bugle
.” He slowed the buggy in front of the print shop.

“By the time the
Bugle
comes out on Wednesday, this will be old news.”

Mackenzie got out and went into the shop. She tossed her bonnet on top of the turtle. Things were getting worse, but Aaron still would not seek his rivals' help. She was sure of that, but what could she do to protect the town? Write another editorial? She clenched her fist. No one listened to her, but refusing to heed the truth would not protect the residents from the coming disaster which no one might be able to prevent.

Hours later, Mackenzie still paced behind the half-wall. Looking out the front windows, she saw a pair of drunks swaying in the twilight. She strode to the back door and peered into the dark yard. There was no sign of Luke or Douglas. Fear clamped around her throat, making it impossible to breathe. She should have known better than to trust Luke with her son. Who knew what kind of mad adventure he would lead Douglas on?

Hearing footsteps overhead, she gripped her full skirts and raced up the stairs. She burst into the room and stared at her son. “When did you get home?”

“A while back.”

She frowned. He must have been home before she was. Otherwise, she would have seen him come in. It was not like Douglas to lurk up here when he could be playing baseball with his friends. “Where's Luke?”

“I'm not sure.”

“He didn't come home with you?”

“No.”

“Did he tell you when he planned to be back?” She wrung her hands until she realized she was wrinkling her best dress. Pulling an apron off the hook, she dropped it over her head and tied the sashes behind her. Just once, he should think about someone else. She flinched. He did think of someone else. He thought about her and how he could seduce her.

“No, he didn't say,” Douglas mumbled.

Mackenzie put her hands on his shoulders and was surprised to feel them quaking. “Is something wrong?”

“Wrong?” He ran a hand through his dark hair until it stood in spikes. “Nothing, Ma. Are we going to eat soon?”

“In about half an hour. Do you have something to do?”

“Just curry down the pony.”

She kissed him on the top of the head. “Go ahead. I'll make some sandwiches with the leftover chicken. Maybe, by then, Luke will be back.”

“Ma?”

She looked over her shoulder. Douglas began to speak, but stopped. As she had before, she asked, “Is something wrong?”

“I …” He dampened his lips. “I'll be right back. I'm starving.” He raced down the stairs.

Something was bothering Douglas. He did not usually evade her questions like this. She hurried after him.

An impatient wind tugged at her skirts as she stepped into the backyard. Thunderheads towered over the mountains. She knew how quickly storms could swoop down on Bentonville. If Luke was still out, she hoped he had enough sense to seek shelter.

Douglas stood in the barn door, staring at the storm. When he looked at her, tears glittered on his cheeks.

“Douglas?” She was not sure what she wanted to ask because she was afraid of what she might hear.

“Ma, we—I—Ma, I'm worried about Luke.”

Never had she seen such anguish on her son's face. “Tell me why.”

He sat on a stool by the pony's stall. He folded his hands between his knees as he whispered, “He wanted to see the countryside, so I took him for a ride.”

“You've told me that. What happened?”

Douglas shuffled his feet. “Ma, I just wanted to repay him for hurting you.” Tears rolled down his colorless cheeks. “I saw how angry you were at him. Then he was smooching up to Lacey.”

“He kissed Lacey?” Pain carved through her.

He shook his head. “He's not that stupid. She was oozing all over him. It made me angry that he let her act like that, Ma, so I decided to give him some time to think it over.”

She pressed a hand over the spot where her heart refused to beat for a long painful second. “Where is he, Douglas?”

“He should have been here by now, Ma!”

“I know that. But where is he?”

He wiped his nose with his hand as he sobbed, “I left him in the stand of trees over by where O'Grady's spread bumps into LaBounty's homestead. I just snapped a branch at him. It knocked him from his horse. I left him, so he had to walk home.”

“Douglas, did you check to be sure he wasn't hurt?”

“No, Ma, I didn't think—” He looked up at her and whispered, “I only wanted to help you.”

“I know, Douglas. I know.” She cringed as thunder sounded. “But now we must find Luke.”

Luke woke to a throbbing headache. Thunder crashed around him, but he was unsure whether it came from a storm or from the maelstrom within his skull. Turning on a hard surface, he saw a fire on a hearth. That explained the uneven light, but why did his head ache like this?

“Awake, friend?”

He tried to focus his eyes. When he saw a dim form move in the shadows, he struggled to sit and groaned as his head threatened to explode.

“Take it easy, friend,” warned the voice.

“Where …? Who …?”

A cup was held to his lips. Whiskey slid along his throat, slicing into the bonds of pain. He put his fingers around the cup and tilted it back farther. The biting flavor revived him.

“Better?” asked the shadow.

He touched a bandage wrapped around his forehead. “What happened?”