Mary Connealy (91 page)

Mort glared.

“I know what you want to say. I can see it in your eyes.” Wade stayed on his feet with the chair a barrier Mort couldn’t cross. “You want to throw me out. But you can’t, not in your condition. Not now especially, now that you know your foreman is incompetent. So you’re stuck putting up with me for now. Just as I’m stuck putting up with you. I give you news that makes you furious, and as usual you have no control over yourself. Not something I consider strength, Pa.”

The truth of that resonated with Abby. Yes, much of Wild Eagle’s strength had instead been simple anger, a tantrum suited more to a small child.

Wade held Mort’s eyes, refusing to look away or back down. “All your temper is doing is letting our dinner get cold.”

Mort’s hands tightened on the chair between the two men.

The moment stretched.

Abby noticed the gravy on her potatoes had quit its lovely steaming, and she resented missing out on the savory food while it was piping hot. She could stand it no longer. “Roll yourself back to your place at the table, old man, or I’m throwing your meal out to the dogs. That’s what we do in my village when the two-year-olds act up at mealtime.”

Mort’s head snapped around.

Wade inhaled so sharply he started to cough. It almost sounded like laughter, but that wasn’t possible.

Gertie looked up from her hands, her eyes wide with fear. Abby took a quick look at the others then glared at Mort. “What? Am I supposed to pretend that this noise is anything but weakness? Am I supposed to respect a man who would insult and threaten his son, when his son is the only one who can save his ranch? This is some white man’s game I don’t know how to play, and I refuse to learn. Eat. Both of you. Now.”

They obeyed her.

She expected them to, but Gertie seemed stunned. Abby ate her food quietly, ignoring everyone else. The clink of silverware on plates annoyed her as she considered with contempt the ritual involved in a meal. “How many travois does it take to move on if the water goes foul or the herd dies off in a blizzard? You could never take the house. Explain to me why you built this huge structure.”

Wade looked up from his plate and smiled at her. A warm smile that reminded her of the moment that had passed between them this afternoon. And another such moment a year ago, when Wade had saved her from treacherous men. He’d done that twice now.

“It keeps the snow off our heads.”

Abby rolled her eyes. “The plates, the tables and chairs, such a burden. Eat out of a communal pot. Sit on the dirt floor. Why would you box in such a huge part of the outdoors then be left to clean it and heat it and build useless pieces of furniture to fill it? Why not just leave the outdoors…outdoors and let God keep it hot or cold to suit Himself?”

“You told me you believe in God, Abby. That your people believed in Jesus.”

“Yes, we were visited by the Blackrobes.”

“Blackrobes?”

“Our word for men who came talking of the white man’s God. The first such man came years ago, long before I lived with the Flathead. A man named DeSmet spent a long while with our people. We respected him greatly and embraced his teachings. Other Blackrobes have come since, including one last winter. There are many believers in the one God among my people.”

“I’ve heard of DeSmet.” Mort spoke, sounding almost polite.

Abby braced herself for his cruelty. It was nearly all she’d heard from him since they’d met.

“He walked into a hostile Sioux gathering of five thousand warriors and demanded to talk to Sitting Bull. He convinced them to sign a peace treaty when they were talking war. I never knew he’d been around here. Imagine the strength of the man—facing down Sitting Bull.”

“He walked with God. That was his strength. My people told me so. My Flathead mother knew him well. She was a young girl when he lived among them. There was a greatness to him that led us to embrace his words when we would have driven off another white man. And we have passed that belief in his faith down over the years.”

Mort stared at her. “You’re saying you believe in this God stuff, too? You, raised as a savage?”

“You were the one who lifted your fist to your son. Neither my Flathead father nor my white father ever did such to me or
anyone
except in self-defense. You are the only savage at this table, old man.”

Mort glowered at her.

“Do you now wish to strike me? Is that what makes you feel like a man?”

Mort shook his head. “I’m done with this meal and this company.” Mort, his head shaggy with overgrown white hair, turned to Wade. “Move aside, boy, so I can get to bed. Been a long day, my first to be moving so much. I’m tired.”

“Do you need help getting settled for the night, Pa?”

At first Abby thought Mort would shout and threaten again. His fists clenched and his face reddened. For a long, taut minute he seemed to fight a battle within himself. Mort said at last, “I might. I’ll call you in later if I can’t manage.”

Astonished, Abby remembered that in her village she’d been taught that the elders of the tribe were to be revered. Her dealings with Mort to this point had been anything but reverent.

Wade, however, had spoken of honoring his father. Ashamed of herself, Abby watched Mort nod, his eyes downcast, as he waited for his son to politely move the same chair they’d used as a wall between them earlier. Mort rolled past that side of the table.

Laying one hand on his father’s shoulder, Wade said, “I’ll get things straightened out fast with the roundup, Pa.”

“Thanks.” Nodding, Mort headed for the office they’d converted to a bedroom.

B
elle, honey, I might need you to shoot a man.”

“Now, Silas? Or can it wait until after lunch?”

“After lunch is probably soon enough. The Jessups are sending three men over. They’ll sleep in the barn and watch over Cassie and the children. I need a couple of sharpshooters, though. Can Emma come, too?”

“I want to go. I’m a good shot.” Cassie smiled eagerly.

Suppressing a groan, Red went to his newly bloodthirsty wife’s side and slid an arm around her waist. “You are a good shot. But someone’s gotta stay here with the young’uns.”

“We can take the children.”

Silas shook his head and scrubbed his face with his gloved hands. “No babies allowed in our posse. That’s final. Belle, tell her. I’m going to get something to eat.” Silas marched inside.

“You go eat, too, Red,” Belle ordered. “We can’t leave until the Jessups get here, so there’s time.”

Cassie turned, her hands fisted and plunked on her hips, as Red, recognizing a will stronger than his own, obeyed Belle. As he went in the house, he heard Cassie say, “Don’t you tell me what to do, Belle Tanner.”

“It’s Harden,” Silas yelled from inside the house. “Try and remember her name, Cassie.”

The Jessups showed up, three of the six brothers, who batched with their pa on a nearby ranch. They were a rough bunch, with no female influences to soften their manly ways, but decent men and the Dawsons’ closest neighbors. They often rode over to share church services when the weather wasn’t fit for them to all get to Divide.

Red was pretty sure they were believers, but he didn’t kid himself that they were coming for his sermons. They liked looking at his pretty wife and two little children. The men were as fascinated by the young’uns as they were by Cassie…well, almost. Close enough Red hadn’t had to punch anyone yet.

Despite her nagging, Red, Silas, Belle, and Emma left Cassie behind.

“I can’t thank you enough for teaching Cassie to stand up for herself more.” Red considered Belle to be an uncommonly intelligent woman. No chance she missed the sarcasm.

Belle worked the lever on her Winchester as her horse galloped smoothly along, the four riders abreast.

They made good time closing the distance to the gap. It had been slow going to keep up with the faint trail before, but now they knew where they were headed.

“You may not like her standing up to you—”

“She’s never had much trouble standing up to me anyway. Maybe a little bit at first, but it didn’t last.”

“But she needs to stand on her own two feet. What if something happened to you? You want her to be trapped like she was last time, when that worthless Lester Griffin died? Forced into a marriage she doesn’t want? The next time she might not get as lucky as to have a kindhearted man at the ready to save her.”

“What do you want us to do, Pa?” Emma slipped her rifle into the boot on her saddle and settled in to take the long ride to the gap.

“Red’s idea. Let him explain.” Silas rode with Belle on his left and Emma on his right. Red was beside Belle, probably so she was handy to protect them both, trusting Emma to take care of herself.

Remembering how Belle had taught Cassie to sass him, Red couldn’t bring himself to break the news of what Belle’s part of this plan entailed.

“You want me to scale that mountain?” Belle stared at the sheer rock. “Emma, too?”

“This is the steepest part.” Red pointed to his left. “There’s an easy place to climb farther down that way.” Relatively easy.

Silas pointed right. “And Emma, you can climb that tree. It’ll take you up to that rock shelf.” Silas raised his hand, his finger pointing almost straight upward. “From there you can get a clear view of the canyon inside. Be mighty careful when you get up there. Keep your head down. We think there are two men in there, and they’re wily. They most likely are watching the gap, but they could see some movement on the rim, too.”

“They had to be wily to find that gap.” Belle studied the almost invisible fissure in the sheer rock wall.

A low rumble turned them around in their saddles. “And here comes the rest of my plan.” Red settled his hat firmly on his head and turned to see cattle of all colors, but mostly brown with dust, tromping up the trail.

Jessups, the three sons who weren’t staying to protect Cassie, herded twenty head of cattle up the trail.

“You think they’ll find that gap?” Emma reined her horse aside to make way for the oncoming cattle and to help funnel them toward the rocky gap. The girl knew more about horses, cattle, and ranching than Red ever would.

“Get to climbing, girls. We’ll hold the herd till you give us a signal.” Silas rode with Belle to make sure her horse got tied up tight when Belle started climbing. Red followed Emma, though the Harden horses were so well trained Red suspected they’d both stand untied and riderless for hours.

As Emma stood on her horse’s back and reached for the nearest branch on the twisted pine tree growing out of the rock, she said to Red, “How’d you come up with this plan anyway?”

“Well, my first idea was to dynamite the gap.”

Emma swung herself up to sit on a branch then looked down at him. “That seems kinda mean hearted.”

“I s’pose. But in a way, it’s no different than putting those outlaws in jail. If we catch ’em, they’ll be hanged or end up in the territorial prison. They’d probably be happier in that canyon.”

“I didn’t say it was bad, just mean. I like it. If this doesn’t work, Ma and I can ride to Divide for the dynamite.”

Red sincerely hoped it did work, or chances were he and Silas and the Jessup brothers wouldn’t live to tell the tale. Belle and Emma would be all right, though. No one was going to get them up on those rocks. And between the two of them and Cassie, there would be three remaining Jessup men to marry.

The more Red thought about his own sweet Cassie married to one of the Jessups, the more determined he was to win this showdown.

Emma scrambled up the rock wall like a mountain goat and vanished over the rim. Red turned to see Belle swing over the top with her rifle strapped on her back.

Red and Silas rode out to meet the Jessups. All three cut from the same cloth, dark hair windblown and too long for respectability. They all were lean, running to skin and bones, with weathered skin and eyes, wise to the trail.

“Let’s get this over and done.” Red fell into a semicircle with the Jessups and Silas, urging the cattle forward, hoping that a sudden rush of cattle and gunfire from above would give them the seconds they needed to breach this outlaw fortress.