Texas Lonesome (3 page)

Glad I’m not in Calhoun’s boots.

“Busting up a man’s livelihood is a serious charge, Mr. Calhoun,” Judge Halford began, piercing Noah with a squinty-eyed gaze. “Nothing annoys me more than bad behavior with someone else’s property. I was a victim once, many years ago. That fella couldn’t pay back then either. Set me back years.” He stopped, his gaze moving to the window, his full cheeks darkening.

Sidney Calhoun held up her reticule. “I’ve brought the money to pay,” she said in a clear voice. “As much as it takes.”

Perhaps she could feel what was coming down the tracks.

“Young Calhoun will be responsible for his own debts, Miss Calhoun. He won’t rely on you anymore.” The judge shifted in his seat and glanced briefly toward Dustin and Chaim.

Dustin frowned. Why was old Judge Halford looking at them?

“But since your assigned attorney has let you down, and being your earlier infractions were not much more than pranks, and being you’re only”—he glanced at the paper in his hands—“seventeen years old, I’m stepping out and making a rather unusual ruling. Be assured, you won’t get off in my court. I’m sentencing you to work out at the Rim Rock Ranch in Rio Wells. You will not step a foot off that property until you’ve earned enough money to pay off your debt.”

The woman bolted to her feet, as did Dustin and Chaim.

“At the McCutcheons’!” she spat out as if she’d just bitten into a chunk of rancid meat.

She glanced over to her brother. Seeing his gaze trained on someone in the crowd, she turned and gaped at the sight of Dustin and Chaim standing four rows away, witnessing her brother’s shame. All color drained from her face as realization apparently dawned on her who he was.

The judge smiled. “Exactly.”

“Your Honor,” Dustin entreated from his spot in the middle of the crowd. “You know the history between our families. This is a terrible idea. I’d appreciate it kindly if you’d reconsider. Chaim and I still have some time in San Antonio before we pull out. Who knows what trouble Noah Calhoun can get into by then?”

“You’re exactly correct; I
do
know your two families’ histories all too well. Winston McCutcheon and I go way back, as do Jock Calhoun and I. I respect both men as much as I do Grover Cleveland, the twenty-second president of these grand United States. But that doesn’t stop me from doing what needs to be done here.”

Pounding a finger on his desk, he said, “Seeing
your
face in my courtroom today, Dustin McCutcheon, reminds me how you busted up my favorite restaurant here in San Antonio not all that long ago, and got off practically scot-free with only one night in jail—”

“I paid restitution, Your Honor!” he blurted, feeling a drop of sweat roll down his temple.

“Order!”

Halford rapped the gavel so hard, Dustin feared the wooden tool would snap in two.

“I don’t cotton to such irresponsibility. Therefore, to teach both you boxers a lesson you’ll not soon forget, Noah Calhoun will stay in jail until you pick him up before you ride out. I’m assigning you as his guardian. Any trouble that he finds will fall on
your
shoulders.”

Once again, the judge slammed down his gavel. “Next case!”

G
obsmacked, Sidney squelched a gasp. She was so stunned she couldn’t move, and certainly she wouldn’t as long as Noah stood there in chains. An imaginary bear trap snapped around her neck, but she resisted the urge to claw at the neckline of her dress.

The attractive cowboy in the mercantile had been Dustin McCutcheon? The one with the charming smile, impossibly wide shoulders, and arms fit to wrestle a bear. How? Why? She’d even admired his backside, for goodness’ sake. Horror over her unladylike behavior was shameful enough, but knowing the object of her curiosity was a McCutcheon made her actions all the worse.

Dustin and Chaim McCutcheon! How many times had she heard those despised names? She struggled to calm her raging thoughts. Noah under Dustin’s thumb? And living in Rio Wells?

Their families had been friends once until someone—a McCutcheon, or someone they’d hired—had beaten her father near to death. Her dear pa had been left broken, still suffering years later from the pain that never really healed. Even worse was the knowledge he’d been betrayed by a friend.

If only Jock Jr. were here. Her oldest brother would have talked his way around that judge with ease, and this whole McCutcheon mess would have been avoided. Tomorrow, she and Noah would have boarded the train bound for Santa Fe, and been home in a few days. As things stood now, she didn’t know what to expect.

She shot a heated glance in Noah’s direction. She couldn’t wait to box his ears for getting into this mess in the first place.

Why can’t he just stay in the dormitory where he belongs?

Her youngest brother leaned against the wall with the rest of the prisoners. He wasn’t like her other brothers—rough and sturdy, and happy riding the ranch. Noah was all quick energy and cleverness, and she hurt to see him in shackles. And now he was sentenced to penal servitude with the McCutcheons.

She hadn’t seen either of the McCutcheon brothers since she was a skinny girl of ten, peeking out from under an oversized, droopy brown hat as she sat her horse in the dusty stockyards in Kansas City. Forbidden to ride in the yearly cattle drive by her father, and ordered to stay home with her two younger brothers and the hired help, she’d taken matters into her own hands. She’d hidden away behind a large sack of potatoes in the back of the chuck wagon, enduring the musky air of the cramped storage bin from sunup until they stopped the jarring ride to make camp. At night, she sneaked out to relieve herself and drink water.

Cook discovered her in the dawning of day three, hungry and needing to stretch her badly cramped legs. By then, they’d traveled too far to send her home.

Sucking in several lungfuls of cool, clean air, Sidney had known what was coming, and didn’t flinch when her pa grasped her by the arm and marched her behind a stand of trees. He whacked her bottom with his belt more times than she cared to remember.

Her two older brothers, then thirteen and fourteen—who were plenty old enough to earn their keep, as her father was fond of saying—grudgingly brought her a horse and assigned her a shift. If she wanted to ride trail, then she’d pull her own weight.

When their outfit had arrived in Kansas City, Jock Jr. pointed out Dustin and Chaim. They were walking with their father, the man her pa couldn’t abide. Dustin was a year older than Jock Jr. He’d looked stern, even when his younger brother was kidding him. Soon after, she’d been taken to the hotel by her pa and ordered to stay put. After a day and a half of waiting, she’d been collected by Patrick, who recounted a fight between Jock Jr. and Dustin at the corrals.

By the time Sidney lifted her thoughts from the past, she realized the next case in the courthouse was well under way.

The prosecutor laid out the details, and then the defending attorney that had been so useless for Noah called Dustin McCutcheon to the stand.

She tried not to watch as the oldest McCutcheon testified that the defendant, Edward Felton, was at their ranch in Rio Wells on the night the victim of this case was murdered behind a tavern in San Antonio.

Determined not to look at him, Sidney whisked her gaze past the broad-chested cowboy to the window side of the room. From there, she moved her attention to the floor in front of her. When she had exhausted everything to inspect on the filthy tiles, she averted her eyes to the water-stained ceiling, demanding her ears ignore the deepness of the voice speaking.

Minutes crept by as Mr. Wormer whined out his questions. Dustin McCutcheon answered each with the ease of a toe dancer twirling around the dance floor.

Well aware she’d certainly be thought a fool if she continued counting the cracks above her head for one more second, she dropped her gaze to the reticule in her lap—anything to avoid looking at
him
. She’d heard stories about Dustin from Jock Jr. and Patrick. He commanded attention with each word he spoke.

He answered a few more queries and was dismissed. Chaim, his younger brother, was called next and corroborated the alibi. With the good word of the McCutcheons behind him, Edward Felton was almost certain of being cleared of any wrongdoing.

She glanced at her brother, seven years younger, and compassion dimmed her anger. He’d been such a tiny baby, barely surviving after their mother died in childbirth. He owed his life to the wife of a ranch hand who’d birthed a little boy only eight days before.

Pa had offered the woman twenty dollars a month, a good amount for a wet nurse, to care for him as her own. She’d kept Noah until his first birthday. Sidney remembered how he cried the day she brought him to the big house to stay for good, separated from everything he knew. Inconsolable, he cried for two days straight, the sound battering Sidney’s heart. At least she’d known their mama for seven years. Little Noah had never felt the softness of her hands or heard the gentleness in her voice.

At that time, his rearing fell to her and Carmen, their housekeeper. Sidney remembered giving him a bottle, bathing him, and rubbing bacon grease on his raw bottom. He’d been a bright baby, so curious and intelligent, and he’d grown into a smart young man. He was doing so well in his engineering studies—why couldn’t he just stick to his schoolwork instead of going off on these wild sprees?

As much as she hated to admit the fact now, Noah
was
irresponsible. After this last escapade, Jock Jr. was certain to pull him out of St. John’s. The last time this happened, he’d threatened to do it, but now he’d be sure to make good on the warning. Being the youngest, Noah had a way of bending their pa to his will and getting his way. But with Jock Jr. that wasn’t so. She cringed thinking of the storm that would descend when the two faced off.

But before he had to face his older brother, Noah would have to get through the time he’d been sentenced to spend among those murderous McCutcheons. Sidney didn’t trust that family any more than she would an advancing scorpion.

Judge Halford banged down his gavel, dismissing the case. The guards ushered Noah through the back door, along with the three hooligans who’d gotten a year. In a rumble of chains, Felton’s leg constraints were removed. The free man hurried out of the courtroom, but not before tossing a thankful grin at the McCutcheons.

The time had come for her to leave as well, but if she turned now, she was sure to come face-to-face with the infamous brothers. How she dreaded that exchange. What should she say? Every night her pa went to sleep cursing the name of their father.

Taking up her reticule, she opened the hook and took several drawn-out moments to find her folded handkerchief. With her eyes downcast, she dabbed at her lips, praying the brothers would be gone by the time she left.

Where has my gumption gone? I need to straighten my spine and hold my head high. I’m a Calhoun, and proud of it.

Taking her own words to heart, she stood, brushed her hands down the front of her skirt, and turned. Thankfully, Dustin and Chaim had already left, as well as the majority of the spectators.

Exiting the courthouse, she headed straight for the hotel, the name Dustin McCutcheon playing over and over in her mind like a mantra. She needed to get a hold of her feelings, and take out Jackson, her dog and traveling companion, to stretch his legs.

Should she go to the telegraph office and send the bad news home? Pa and Jock Jr. were sure to be furious.
No, I’ll wait until I can sit and think of what to do next. When I figure out a plan, then I’ll let them know.
No use ruffling everyone’s feathers since they couldn’t do anything to help now anyway.

Proceeding down the street, Sidney jerked to a stop when a black cat darted out from an alleyway and traversed the boardwalk in front of her. She watched the feline scamper to the top of a stack of crates and disappear.
I don’t want to cross
that
path. I can’t deal with any more bad luck.
Since the hotel was on the opposite side of the street, she’d cross now and avoid the cat problem altogether.

Glancing both ways, Sidney hurried to the other side, dodging a few riders and a wagon. Rounding the corner, she spotted Mission San José y San Miguel de Aguayo. Enormous plants with velvety-soft-looking leaves and bright pink and lavender blossoms colored the whitewashed walls.

She stopped for a moment to enjoy the beauty. The bells of the mission rang out three times. Feathery white clouds covering the sky made the creamy ivory of the structure stand out all the more.

Her soul stirred, longing for something she didn’t recognize. A gust of warm wind caressed her face, bringing with it a sweet scent of jasmine and the sound of laughter from far away. She closed her eyes, the sensation transporting her away from her all-male family, the struggles of dealing with an angry, broken father, and the daily business of ranching.

Giggling brought her around. A woman with two small children, one in each arm, walked behind her. The little tykes—girls or boys, she couldn’t tell—were dressed in rags. All three were rail thin.

Sidney couldn’t abide an empty stomach on a child. In Santa Fe, she volunteered at the orphanage, organizing fundraisers and helping out in the kitchen.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Sidney said in a soft voice, bringing the woman out of her thoughts. “Are you from around here?”

Both children buried their heads in their mama’s neck as she said, “Yes, ma’am, I am.”

“I’ve gotten a bit turned around. I’m looking for the Omni La Mansion del Rio Hotel.” She hoped the small fib wouldn’t get her in trouble with God. “My slippers aren’t really made for walking.” She lifted her hem to display the flimsy shoes that went with her best dress. In truth, she’d be glad to get back into her boots.

A smile made the woman’s eyes come alive. “Why, you’re almost there, miss. Just keep going along this route.” She pointed with her chin since both her arms were full. “Once you pass St. Mary’s Church, turn left on Crockett Street. You can’t miss it.”

When Sidney lifted her reticule, she saw the woman quickly look away. Taking charity wasn’t easy for anyone.

“I’d like to thank you for your kindness.”

The woman dropped her gaze to the ground. “Thank you, miss. My boys haven’t eaten yet today.”

Sidney did a quick count of the money in her bag. If her travels after Noah had taught her one thing, it was to bring extra money for unexpected happenings. Even if she were generous today, she’d still have plenty of funds for whatever should come her way.

She stepped close and opened her palm to show the woman two ten-dollar gold coins. “Do you have a safe place where you can hide this? Twenty dollars should keep you and your little ones fed for quite some time.”

“Yes, miss!” The woman’s throat worked as she swallowed several times. “Once I eat and am strong again, I can get my old job back at the wash house.” Her eyes glistened. “I promise I won’t waste your money. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad we met.”

And she was. To be able to lend a helping hand was a privilege, something Sidney enjoyed. Now she just had to figure out how to keep Noah from making his situation worse.