Mail-Order Man (20 page)

 

 

It was true. It was all true. When Claudine got back to the Nickel Dime that night, she admitted that she'd been sleeping with Winslow Packard.

“That means you chose to play on my guilt, to make me beholden to you.”

“Don't be silly, Daisy.” Claudine fluttered a hand. “I did what I had to do. Surely you can't fault me for that.”

“I most certainly can.”

Their friendship, their familial and business ties—the invisible cord that had tied them together—came loose. “You blackmailed me,” Skylla accused, her heart breaking. “Time and again, you blackmailed me.”

Blue eyes turned to steel. “So what if I did? I had to look out for myself. If your father hadn't been a slave-monger, we wouldn't have been in a fix to start with! But no! Ambrose had to get himself lynched for taking in a stupid runaway slave—which lost us everything!”

“You would even insult my father and his values. You have already insulted your adopted daughter. You have insulted me, my husband. And now you expect my sympathy.” Skylla rushed as fast as her uneven legs would permit to the door. She opened it, flourishing a hand toward the road. “Get out, Claudine. Get out now.”

Claudine lifted her nose imperially. “I'll be glad to. I've had enough of watching you lurch around. And I certainly don't want to see that roué of yours cheat you out of everything you own.”

Sweeping to the door, the redhead fired a parting shot. “I don't need you. I have Webb Albright. And a cameo that—”

Skylla slammed the door on her and her words. If she never heard of that cameo again, it would be just fine. Yet she had a sneaking suspicion she had not seen the last of Claudine St. Clair.

Although she didn't regret her parting words to the hateful and malicious Claudine, it didn't take Skylla long to have a change of heart. Just because they didn't see eye to eye about Braxton didn't mean a St. Clair should be turned out in anger. Without a dime. With this in mind, and praying the subject of Stalking Wolf wouldn't come up, Skylla went to her sister. “Kathy Ann, I need your help.”

The word “help” captured the sulking girl's attention. “What do you want me to do?”

She told her to borrow Mr. Burrows's buckboard, then carry money to Claudine at Camp Llano. Kathy Ann set off on her errand, and Skylla busied herself while waiting for her husband's return. The hours ticked by. Then the girl returned home, saying, “She did it. She's married. She took the money, anyhow.”

“Is she . . . ? Did she say anything about me?”

“Said she was sorry y'all had a fight.”

Skylla dried the last of the supper pans, then put it away. “I'll give her time to cool down before I pay her a call.”

After sucking a pickle, Kathy Ann asked, “What are you gonna say to Charlie about her getting married?”

“Why say anything to him?”

“Because they've been meeting in the barn. They even met on your wedding night. In Mr. Burrows's chicken coop.”

“Have you been spying on her?”

“Nope. Those chickens were making such a racket, I couldn't sleep. It's a good thing the Burrowses are old, else they would have heard the commotion.”

Could it be true about Claudine and the scruffy cowboy? Skylla had suspected as much, but the confirmation made her feel all the worse. She had had everything, while Claudi had been desperate.

Skylla needed time to deal with the problem.

 

 

It took three days to move cattle between the northern border of the ranch and Camp Llano. While the roan and the skewbald mare had made the work easier, Charlie's mule, Patsy Sue, had bitched and complained about pulling the wagon of whiskey. Now that the men of the Nickel Dime were headed home—this afternoon of the fourth day—Braxton took pride in their accomplishment.

Furthermore, he had plans. Webb Albright had put a bug in his ear about money-making. It wasn't a bad idea.

Charlie Main doffed his sombrero to wipe his brow with a shirtsleeve. From the driver's seat of the empty cart that had hauled whiskey to the army, he announced, “I'm plumb wore out.”

“Say it again, partner.” Geoff nodded. “Dis ole boy, he could use a few minutes of dat ole shuteye.”

Both men had their eyes on the grassy banks of Topaz Creek. It did look inviting. Tired, sweaty, horny for his wife, and favoring his bruised shoulder, Brax saw no reason not to rest up a bit. He cottoned to the idea of not showing up at the ranch too tired to hold his own . . . or Skylla.

Besides, he needed to talk something over with Geoff.

The men climbed from their perches, each lending a hand to unhitch the cart. They watered the animals, then hobbled them in the grass. Patsy Sue joined the equines to munch hungrily.

“I shore could use a shot of that hooch we left them Blue Bellies.”

“Have some water, Main,” Brax said. “You never know. It might do you some good.”

“Water? That stuff'll rust my pipes.” Charlie Main guffawed at his own joke, then yawned.

He hadn't been drinking much lately. Matter of fact, he looked and acted a lot healthier. It was love.

After washing his face with a bandanna, the cowpoke took a long drink from the creek, then stretched out on the ground. He had no more than dragged his sombrero over his eyes before loud snores sawed the air, disturbing a nest of sparrows in an oak tree nearby.

Geoff and Brax drank their share of water, then lay down a good fifty feet away from their partner. “What's the first thing you're going to buy with all that money?” Geoff asked out of the blue.

“Soon as I get to town, I'm buying a cameo for a pretty little dark-eyed gal answering to Mrs. Hale.”

“I know. A farewell gift.”

“There won't . . .” Brax knew Geoff had his heart set on California. How could he ease into his plan? “I'm buying a big ox and a bigger string of cutting horses.”

“Cutting horses? What's the use of workhorses? We need a pair of good travelers to get us to California.”

Brax listened to the gurgling creek. Coercing a yawn, he pulled his hat over his eyes. “Get some sleep, Geoffie.”

That was not to be. Geoff said, “Miss Claudine sure made an impression on Major Albright.”

Surprisingly, Charlie Main hadn't noticed all that billing and cooing. Any fool could tell he'd had been keeping himself clean for the redhead. Damn. No doubt that dumb old cowpoke would be getting the mitten instead of the hand.

Brax notched his hat up on his forehead. “With any luck that hussy will run off with Albright. Let's hope she makes a clean cut, for Main's sake.”

“If you and I are heading out any day, now that you've got loot, why do you want Miss Skylla's stepmammy to leave her?”

“Uh, um.” Brax ran a palm over his mouth. “I've been wanting to talk to you about California. I sent a letter to Bella by way of those cavalry soldiers who were headed west.” There had been five of them at Camp Llano, preparing for the next leg of their long land journey. “They were happy to oblige.”

“What did the letter say?” Geoff asked slowly.

“That I've changed my plans.” Brax sat up to rub his shoulder. “I won't be seeing the inside of any San Francisco gambling hells.”

“I suppose you've thought through what all that means, haven't you, Bubba? Could be you'll ranch 'til you die.”

“We can get help for the hard work. If not, well, I've got a good feeling. Besides, I'd sure hate to miss the bluebonnets next spring.”

“You were always more for the settled life than you made out.”

Why argue? For once, Brax accepted the truth about himself.

“You seem pretty sure of your wife, Bubba. What're you going to say to Miss Skylla when she finds out you were planning to sell the ranch out from under her?”

Brax got sick to his stomach, just thinking about what all could happen should she find out her husband was no pillar of society, propriety, or fair play.
Be reasonable. Don't panic
. “How would she find out?”

“That Jane lady knows. You told her.”

“Jane knows I was looking for a buyer, that's all. Anyhow, she won't say anything to make trouble. Jane's a good gal.”

“Me,” said Geoff, pointing at his chest, “I think you're putting too much faith in a lady you loved and left.”

“Don't worry about Jane.”

“Your wife is no dummy. I can't help but wonder what your wife would say if she found out you made a deal with a whore—selling Miss Elizabeth's cameo—no more than a couple of days before your wedding day.”

Damn, double damn! “Let me worry about my wife.”

“Best of luck to you, then.” Geoff pushed to stand, walked over to the creek, and scratched his head. Turning back toward Brax, he said, “What did you say about me to Bella?”

“That you might be coming out there to join her.”

The youth crouched on his heels to snap a blade of grass at the root. “Are you wanting me to leave?”

“I'm not wanting to hold you back. You're a grown man now. Almost eighteen. It's time you made your own decisions.”

Brax would never admit how much it hurt to give the boy his freedom to be a man. He glanced at Geoff, whose brow had furrowed. When Geoff got that look on his face, he so resembled Larkin Hale, Brax's dead brother, that it hurt.

“I wouldn't know what to do if we split up.”

Uncomfortable, Brax squinted at the sky. A storm was brewing. “Geoffie, if you choose to leave, you'll have the money for a proper start.”

“I have a choice?”

“You do.”

“I suppose I can find some sort of job. I never was too keen on cheating folks.”

“It's a sorry life, grifting around.”

“I'd like to be respectable. That would make Miss Elizabeth proud. She always worried about me.”

“Yeah, Mother would be proud, Geoffie. Real proud. She loved you like a son. I'd be proud, too.”

Geoff smiled. “You know, I've been thinking. I'd like to get me a nice little wife.”

“I saw a good-looking gal in Stalking Wolf's village. Pearl of the Concho is her name. Maybe you ought to find an excuse to trail Stalking Wolf. He'll let you bring her back, provided he knows Yellow Hair of Good Medicine said it must be.”

“Think so?”

“I'd like to see you settled with a wife of your own.”

“If I were white, I could have all kinds of choices.”

“Won't do you any good, wishing for the impossible.” Not for the first time, Brax thought about how accepting Skylla had been about Geoff's color.

“I'd like to court Miss Kathy Ann.”

“I figured as much. I've seen you ogling Piglet. Has she given any indication she might be of a mind to accept you?”

“No. She treats me like dirt. Not black dirt, particularly. But dirt.”

“She treats everyone like dirt,” Brax answered with a chuckle. “Pretty much.”

“Do you think I might have a chance?”

“Honestly, no.” He had to give it to Geoff straight, though Brax hated to discourage the lad. “Her interest lies in Stalking Wolf, I'm afraid. On the way home the other night, while Skylla made a nature call, Kathy Ann let me know she wasn't too pleased about being rescued.”

“Damn. Damn, Bubba, damn.”

“I'm sure you voice her mother's and sister's sentiments—if Kathy Ann decides to go back to Stalking Wolf.” Brax looked with concern at Geoff. “Are you in love with her?”

Geoff shook his head. “No. But I've had lots of fantasies about getting experience with a woman.”

Nothing more was said for a good five minutes, then Geoff asked, “What in particular did she say that makes you think she'll run off to Stalking Wolf?”

“She asked me if I liked the taste of eyeball stew.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I said the juice wasn't too bad. That if a body got hungry enough, anything would taste good. She, uh, she said they'd eaten anything that crawled. In Vicksburg.”

Kathy Ann had started to explain the siege that ended on Independence Day, 1863. Brax had shut her up. He'd refused to hear it. Still hurting for his two sisters, for Larkin's widow, and for his young niece, he hadn't wanted a mental picture of their suffering.

“Kathy Ann said something interesting about Virgil Petry,” he now commented to Geoff. “She told me why he put up the traveling money for the husband-wanted deal.”

“Is that so?”

“There was a personal tie between Virgil and Claudine's bachelor uncle, which I knew all along. To put it mildly, those fellows had eyes for each other. It was all hush-hush.”

“I always figured Massa Petry was sort of odd.”

“I never told you what Virgil did to spring me, did I? Virgil said yes to the captain of guards. The Yankee had been after Virg's lard-ass for a while, but Virg didn't like his looks. He gave in to get his former lover's niece a husband. Me.”

“But how did you get him interested in you?”

“Blackmail.”

“I should've guessed.”

“I told him if he didn't get me out of the stockade and give me a recommendation, I'd slander his name all over the Delta. I took a wild guess and said I'd let it be known that he'd been buggering little boys. I must have guessed right. He jumped right on that repulsive Yankee he'd been avoiding.”

“Dat may be right, but dat ole lawyer had da last laugh. He sent you to Miss Claudine.”

“Who's laughing now?”

The wind kicked up all of a sudden, bringing the scent of rain with it. It was time for the autumn rains. The Nickel Dime could use some of it. But why did he get the impression the storm wouldn't be limited to the heavens opening up?

“Bubba, tell me more about Pearl of the Concho.”

After Brax launched into a description that didn't need inflating, Geoff said, “If we found a mutual interest, where would I take her to live? Truth is, Bubba, I never hankered for California. That place was your dream.”

Brax went still. He allowed himself the liberty of butting into Geoff's decision-making. “The Nickel Dime has enough land for a bunch of Hales. . . .”

“Now that you mention it, Mason County has kinda grown on me. I could see spending a lifetime here.”

A grin lightened Brax's face. He reached out to rub his knuckles across the naps on Geoff's head, then did something he hadn't done in years. He gave the boy a bear hug and a big slap on the back. “Glad to hear it, Geoffie.”

He'd been hoping—hell, praying!—Geoff wouldn't say his goodbyes. Never had he been able to announce, or even to acknowledge, that Geoffrey Hale was blood kin. They had never even discussed it between them. Still, he loved Geoff like a brother. Geoff was his brother. The last brother Brax had to lose.

Elizabeth Hale, wraithlike on her deathbed, had whispered to her firstborn, “Take care of little Geoffie. Don't ever whisper a word of it, but . . . he's your blood brother.”

The saintly Elizabeth expired then, still concerned for her demon husband's by-blow. There had been no end to the dirt John Hale had piled on the family.
Forget him and his dirt.