The Independent Bride (18 page)

“How do you know so much about what people will buy?” Abby asked.

Bryce smiled. “The officers’ wives complain when they have to order things they can’t find in the store.”

Abby continued to be impressed with the extent of Bryce’s knowledge about the fort and everything that happened here. Maybe that was why everything seemed to run smoothly, and the men seemed content. Bryce had a genuine interest in the welfare of his men and their families that extended to the people attached to the fort, even to the Indians on the reservation. Maybe his attempts to control her weren’t entirely selfish after all. Maybe he was genuinely worried about her safety. And happiness. After all, he had agreed to let them stay in his house. Maybe she’d have to reevaluate her opinion of Colonel Bryce McGregor.

“Dorrie Spaugh told me very much the same thing,” Abby said. “I’m hoping she’ll work for us. I think having an all-female staff would help attract customers.”

“Probably all the way from Boulder Gap,” Bryce said, “but you’ll have a problem. As I explained, the officers’ wives won’t like to have anything to do with the wives of the enlisted men.”

“Anyone who works for us will have to treat all customers with equal courtesy,” Moriah declared. “Neither Abby nor I will tolerate that sort of snobbishness.”

“Maybe we can do something to change things,” Abby said.

“The best thing you can do is have a store that provides as wide a range of merchandise as possible. There’s no reason for the wives to work making extra money if they have no place to spend it.”

“Would you be willing to have a party for the wives so we can meet them?” she asked Bryce.

“Zeb told me Dome’s already planning a party.”

“I mean the enlisted men’s wives.”

Bryce’s hesitation was obvious.

“We’ll make all the preparations,” Abby assured him.

“That isn’t what’s causing me concern. There will be some problems with morale among the officers’ wives.”

“We could do it ourselves, but the message would be much stronger if it came from you.”

“That’s what worries me. Don’t misunderstand, I approve of what you want to do, but not everyone thinks as you or I do. I need some time to consider the best way to do this.”

“But you will do it?”

He hesitated again. “All right.” A grimly humorous smile appeared. “I do hope your store is a smashing success because I can see you’re going to continue to cause a great deal of trouble.”

“I won’t be selling you any more beef for them Indians,” Lavater said to Abby. “It’s not worth more than my life. Or the lives of my cowhands.”

“How are the wounded men?” She meant to say
man.
The cowhand with the stomach wound had died that night.

“Rufus is a mite better, but he’d be as dead as Tommy if that army doc hadn’t showed up.”

“Colonel McGregor tells me rustlers don’t always attack the herds. I’m sure that next time—”

“There won’t be any next time.”

“But who will I get to provide the beef?”

“There are lots of ranchers around.”

“I don’t know who they are.”

“I’ll give you a list of names.”

Once Abby got a look at the list, she felt better. There were more than a dozen names. She shouldn’t have any trouble finding all the beef she needed.

“I want all my money, Mr. Hinson,” Abby said.

“Half those cows have been run to death. It practically takes two of them to make one decent beef.”

“My contract doesn’t say anything about the condition of the cows. It states quite clearly that I’m to receive twenty dollars a head. Fifty head at twenty dollars each comes to a thousand dollars. And I want it in gold.”

Lieutenant Collier’s patrol had accompanied Lavater’s cowhands when he delivered the fifty head to the Indian reservation. There could be no question the contract had been fulfilled. When Hinson hadn’t come to her, she’d gone to him. He seemed angry rather than relieved.

She’d been surprised to discover his office was in Boulder Gap, more than thirty miles from the Indian reservation.

“I can only pay you in script,” Hinson said.

“The contract says I’m to be paid in gold,” Abby pointed out. “I have to pay the rancher in gold. If I had to discount script, I wouldn’t make any profit.”

“That’s not my worry. Besides, I don’t have that much gold in the office.”

“Then get it. The bank is open. I’ll be in town for several more hours.”

“It’s not safe for you to travel with that much gold. There are thieves more than willing to kill for that much money.”

She didn’t intend to take the money back to the fort. She meant to deposit it in the Boulder Gap bank so she could pay her creditors. She needed to place a lot of orders to rebuild her stock.

“You have to pay up, so quit stalling,” Bryce said.

“I don’t have to do anything I don’t want,” Hinson snapped. “The army has no authority over me.”

“You can ignore me and the Indians, but you can’t ignore civilians. If they start complaining that you don’t pay them according to their contracts, you’ll be replaced.”

Abby had asked Bryce to let her handle Hinson, but now she was glad for his help. Many men didn’t feel women were of any consequence. A colonel in command of a fort couldn’t be so readily ignored.

“As I said, I don’t have that much gold in the office,” Hinson said.

“I’ll take what you have and go with you to the bank to collect the rest,” Abby offered.

She could practically read the silent curses in Hinson’s eyes. She didn’t understand why he was so angry about having to pay out government money. It wasn’t as if it was his.

“You have to provide the full fifty head next month, too, or I’ll be forced to cancel the contract.”

“Baucom told me rustlers always stole part of his herd. I expect to be given every bit as much latitude as you gave him.”

Hinson didn’t reply but turned and stalked over to the safe. He opened it and started counting out gold coins from a cloth bag.

“That’s all I have,” he said when he reached seven hundred dollars.

“The bag isn’t empty,” Abby pointed out.

“I have other obligations,” Hinson said.

“Why can’t you give me what you have and withdraw the money to pay your other obligations?”

“That’s a good question,” Bryce said. “I’ll be interested to hear your answer.”

If looks could kill, Abby would have been struck dead. Hinson counted out the last three hundred. “There,” he practically snarled. “Now get out of my office.”

“I can’t say it was a pleasure doing business with you,” Abby said. She took her money, turned on her heel, and left. “I want to go straight to the bank,” she said to Bryce once they were outside. “I’ve never had so much money.”

“You have an armed escort. I think I can get you there safely.”

It took less man ten minutes to reach the bank; it took more than an hour for Abby to complete her business there. By the time she was done, she was exhausted but relieved. She’d fulfilled the beef contract and paid her creditors on time, the first steps toward success.

She knew she couldn’t have done it without Bryce’s help.

“I want to treat you to dinner,” she said to Bryce. “Where shall we eat?”

“There’s no good place compared to what you and your sister can do.”

“I appreciate the compliment, but I’m not cooking to night.”

“Then I guess it has to be Mrs. Clyde’s restaurant.”

Mrs. Clyde’s turned out to be nicer than Bryce had led Abby to expect. It was small—only ten tables covered with red-checked tablecloths—but it looked clean and was reasonably quiet. There was no menu; you ate what Mrs. Clyde cooked that day, or you went somewhere else. Today it was pot roast.

“This is quite good,” Abby said when she tasted her first mouthful.

“It’s not as good as what you can do.”

“How do you know? I haven’t cooked pot roast.”

“If, when you
do
cook a pot roast, it’s not as good as Mrs. Clyde’s, I promise I’ll apologize to her.”

Abby giggled. She was horrified at herself, but it was nevertheless a giggle. “She’ll probably think you’re crazy.”

Bryce grinned. “I’m an army officer. She wouldn’t say that.”

“My Aunt Emma would.”

“I guess that’s where you get your sass.”

Abby wasn’t sure she liked that. “You think I’ve got sass?”

“Lord, yes. I never met a woman so chock full of it.” His expression suddenly changed. “Well, I do know one other, but you’re not like her.”

Abby wanted to know who, but the change in his expression told her it wasn’t a complimentary comparison. “Since my sister and I have to make our own living, I’m thankful I have a good dose of sass.”

“What was your life like back in St. Louis?” Bryce asked. “I can’t imagine it was anything like what you’re doing now.”

“We led a quiet, orderly, and predictable existence. Moriah helped Aunt Emma in her dress shop. I did, too, until I got a job in a bank. After supper we used to sit in the parlor talking and sewing. Visiting was mostly reserved for Sunday afternoon. In summer, if we didn’t go anywhere, we’d sit on the porch and talk to people as they passed by.”

“Why didn’t you stay in St. Louis? Working in a bank has to be a lot better than running a store on an army fort.”

Abby was tempted to tell Bryce about being accused of embezzlement, but she wasn’t sure he would continue to help her if he knew. She hadn’t been guilty, so she didn’t feel she was hiding anything he needed to know.

“We had taken advantage of my aunt’s hospitality long enough. Since our father owned a business, it seemed only logical to take it over after he died.”

There was no need to tell him she hadn’t had any other choice.

“It’s a big transition from St. Louis to an army fort.”

“You made the transition from Philadelphia society. I expect that was even more difficult.”

“Who told you my family was part of Philadelphia society?”

“Everyone knows. They’re all wondering when you’ll get your transfer back East.”

“Surely there are other things to talk about.”

“Not at Fort Lookout. All the women spend half their time talking about you.”

“Why? I don’t do anything interesting.”

“You’re a handsome man, successful, wealthy, with a society background. You’re single, with a little girl who needs a mother. What could be more fascinating to a cloistered group of women confined to a few thousand square yards of desert a thousand miles beyond the fringes of society?”

Bryce laughed. “It doesn’t sound so far-fetched when you put it that way.”

“The other topic of conversation is how long it will be before Moriah and I accept one of the many proposals we receive daily.”

Chapter Eleven

All sign of goodwill disappeared from Bryce’s expression. Abby couldn’t decide whether to be flattered or angry at his reaction, but she was sufficiently experienced in the ways of men to recognize signs of jealousy. It seemed Bryce was no more immune to the presence of an attractive, single woman than his equally unmarried soldiers. Since he didn’t need a wife to help him achieve a better standard of living, it was quite possible he was attracted to her for herself. She had absolutely nothing against a handsome man finding her attractive.

Since she had no intention of accepting any of the proposals, it didn’t make any sense to get angry. It promised to be much more fun to be flattered. Besides, when he wasn’t trying to convince her to go back to St. Louis, telling her she didn’t know anything about the West, or not wanting her to do anything without talking to him first—which she granted was quite a lot to overlook— she liked him a great deal. Not just the physical kind of liking. The more dangerous kind. She liked
him.

“You don’t have to go all stiff and official-sounding,” Abby said. “I have no intention of marrying any of your soldiers. It’s just something to talk about other than Indians, who goes on patrol next, or you.”

“I’d have thought your store was more than enough to talk about.”

“Women don’t want to talk business all day. We’re much more interested in people. Half the time shopping is just an excuse to socialize.”

“I’ll never understand women.”

“We don’t understand men, either.”

“I thought women believed they understood men perfectly.”

“We learn your habits, what you like and dislike, because mat’s part of our job, but we don’t understand why you’re the way you are.”

He was smiling again. “You’re the first woman I’ve ever met who’s been willing to admit that.”

“I don’t know why. Admitting you don’t understand something is the first step toward understanding it.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you sound like a philosopher?”

Abby laughed, pleased. “No, but lots of people have said I talk too much. One or two even said I think too much, but I doubt you’d agree with that.”