The Lover (4 page)

She thought about that.

“Out of your profits,” he said.

“I don't know. I already have the mortgage on my place, and I'll owe Mr. Adams for the use of his horses and mules. I have to pay you and the drovers. I don't want to owe all that.”

“It won't be all that much more that you'd owe me,” he said. “Only a couple of days' work for your brushpopper Tucker and his men.”

“No, I—”

“
Think,
Susanna,” he interrupted her. “If we can get on the trail even one day earlier, it might determine whether you
have
profits or not. There's a record number of herds going north this year and if too many of them are ahead of us, we won't have enough grass.”

Shock ran through her with the force of a blow. It must've showed on her face. She slowed her horse to a walk.

Somehow, she had always assumed there
would be plenty of everything, except she did know that there were one or two places on the Chisholm that they had to go a day without watering the cattle.

“Same with water,” he said, as if he could read her mind.

Desperation stabbed her.

“But I'll have
some
profits,” she said. “If steers are eleven dollars a head here and they bring twenty in Kansas…”

“Things change,” he insisted. “It'll be three months till we get there. Plus the cattle can't be skin and bones and still bring twenty.”

Susanna drew in a hard-won breath. Her throat had closed up and so had her lungs.

Now she had visions of cattle skulls and skeletons, long, dry drives with no water, cattle bawling from hunger and thirst.

Here was another gamble. Here was where she was going to prove that she could be the boss and still bend. With the suddenness of a bolt of lightning she knew that there'd be many, many more times before those cattle got to Kansas that she'd have to either bend or break.

She had wrapped her destiny and that of her herd up in this brown-eyed man who was sitting his horse so quietly, just waiting for her decision. He
was
letting her make
this
decision.

But he knew what her answer had to be. And if
it was different, he could just turn and ride away. He really could. Even if he had given his word to her at the jail.

He was a stranger to her and she didn't trust even the people she knew—except for Maynell and Jimbo—but she had to trust him.

“If you pay Tucker the extra money and then trust me to pay you that much more when we sell the cattle, will that be enough? Will you not try to take over all my authority?”

He folded his arms across his saddle horn and gave a sigh, removed his hat, and resettled it at another angle. Then he cocked his head so he could look right into her eyes again.

“There'll be times when you'll think I'm taking over, Susanna. And there'll be other times when I truly am. Times when I
will
gag and tie you and throw you in the wagon, if I have to.”

He waited a minute so she could think about that.

“But I promise you now, those will be times of life and death, times of great danger, if you are advocating the wrong course. The rest of the time, we can make decisions together. We can talk them over just as we've talked about this one today.”

His eyes were deep, dark brown and full of truth.

“All right,” she said. “Once again, I have no choice. Hire Tucker and his men to stay for as long as you can afford and let's get started making a
profit. Such a big profit that I can pay you back and have money left over.”

Then she smooched to her horse and loped away toward home, trying to leave Eagle Jack Sixkiller behind.

He confused her, he infuriated her, he scared her to death, and if he wanted to, he could seduce her when he looked at her with that smile in his dark brown eyes. But it was more than that. What really drew her to him with the power of the sun and moon and stars was the kindness in him.

She'd never really known a kind man before.

All she knew for certain was that she'd better get a good handle on her feelings before they started up the trail.

 

Eagle Jack tried to get a grip on his plan as he followed Susanna.

Maybe the problem was that he needed a new plan. Or had he ever had a plan, in the first place?

It's too late for plans, Sixkiller, you dolt. What you need is a new brain. Blabbermouth.

He took off his hat and slapped it back on again.

Man, he hated worrying! He hated responsibility, too.

And he'd taken on a wagonload of both when he'd let his tongue get away from him. How could he have possibly told her she could go up the trail?

He took his hat off again and ran his fingers through his hair.

He was helpless. It was a hopeless mess.

His gaze already stuck to her like glue, though, as if he'd accepted that it was his job to watch out for her.

Well, it wasn't bad to just
watch
her. Her pert little bottom sat unmoving in her saddle and her perfect rhythm with her mount promised that she could spend all day horseback. She was a good rider.

Which didn't really matter that much. She would be on a wagon seat all day, off by herself on the trackless prairie looking for poke salad and berries, or else she'd be trying to drive along with him while he scouted ahead.

A new pain began to throb in the back of his head.

It must be this devilish headache that had scrambled his mind so much. There he'd been, riding along minding his own trail boss business and trying get them on the
trail
, for goodness sake, when he was blindsided by pity.

She wasn't able to trust anybody, and that was sad. She was scared to death of losing her ranch, and that was sad, too.

But, damn it, her ranch was where she belonged, where she'd be safest and do herself the most good. She had no business on the trail and he didn't need her. He would have Cookie from
the Sixkiller home ranch, the Sixes and Sevens, to do the cooking, and he would have his own men for drovers. All he wanted was to get her cattle ready to go, let the boys they'd hired in front of the saddle shop help him drive them north, and his men could meet them on the Chisholm Trail.

Cookie would kill him if he brought another cook along.

Susanna would probably kill him if he tried to leave here without her.

Why
couldn't he get her to do whatever he wanted, when he wanted?

All the other women did. Hundreds of women did. At least for as long as he
cared
what they did.

He watched her trotting on ahead, picking up now, to a lope.

Orders wouldn't do it. Charm wouldn't do it. Logic wouldn't do it.

But discomfort might. Reality. A good dose of what it would be like on the trail—but now, not when it was too late to turn back.

She'd seemed the most horrified when he'd told her she had to handle the fire and heat the branding irons. He probably wouldn't try to make her do that. But he could insist that she cook dinner for them all outside instead of on her stove, couldn't he? For practice?

That'd be a logical thing that she couldn't refuse to do and it would surely take the excitement out of doing it three times a day for months on
end. Because, God help him, he had to do something. He could not take her with him.

It'd be hard for her to refuse to help, especially in front of the men.

He would even ask, especially, for pie. Probably, digging one pit to use as an oven would be plenty to make her think again. He would explain that she'd have to do that herself every day on the trail because he'd not be able to spare a man for it.

After they ate, they'd work until dark and he'd ask her to help with the cattle if that plug she was riding had any cow sense. Or he'd put her on a different one. She was certainly a fine little rider.

He should've been riding back here all along, watching her great natural seat on the horse. The tall, gangly horse's gait looked so rough, she'd be bouncing all over the place if she weren't pretty darn good.

Almost, he put his heels into his horse to ride up there beside her and tease her about watching her neat little seat in the saddle, but he stopped himself in time. He was not going to joke around with her anymore. He was not going to flirt with her.

All right, he had a plan and he would concentrate on it. He would make her start the hateful work she'd have to do on the trail. He would insist she keep it up through the next couple of days and by then she'd be changing her mind and starting to make noises about staying home after all.

Only then would he tell her that he already had
a cook and that that would be just fine. Well, he'd just as well get started. He might as well get this whole drive organized and find out what else needed to be done.

Aremuda, for one thing. They would only need it until they joined up with the herd from the Sixes and Sevens, but that'd be a couple of hundred miles. Everything, including their lives, depended on the horses.

A scrap of their conversation floated through his head. What was it she had said about using somebody's horses and mules? What kind of a deal was that—borrowed horses on a trail drive?

Especially for a woman who was hysterically afraid of being beholden to anyone?

He smooched to his new mount, who was turning out to be a fairly comfortable one, and rode up beside her.

“What was it you said about paying somebody for the use of their horses and mules?” he said. “Do you mean for the drive?”

She glanced at him, and for a moment he thought she wouldn't answer.

“I have to know about this, Susanna. It's vital for the trail.” Another hesitation, and he knew for sure she didn't want to talk about it. “If I'm going to talk things over with you then you must do the same with me,” he said.

“This is different,” she argued. “This decision has already been made.”

He reminded himself that demanding an answer would not work with her.

“I only need to know the quality of horses,” he said. “You know our lives will depend on our horses.”

“They seem good quality to me,” she said. “I think they'll be fine.”

Something was wrong. She'd just blurted out something as personal as her financial troubles to him, but this was like pulling teeth.

He leaned on his patience, which could be considerable when that was the only way to get to his goal.

“Do you have delivery yet?”

“No. They'll probably bring them over this afternoon. Tucker was going to send word when the gather is done.”

“Send word where?”

“To Mr. Adams.”

Eagle Jack waited. He wanted to shake more words out of her but he stayed quiet.

“My neighbor,” she said. “To the east over there.” She gestured vaguely.

“Does Mr. Adams run a livery?”

“No, he's just doing me a favor and making a little money on his extra animals at the same time.”

“Are y'all good friends?”

“No, we're acquaintances. He let me ride one of
his horses back from town one day when mine went lame.”

“Pretty good horse?” he asked.

“I thought so.”

“Good,” he said. “I'll be anxious to see what he's got.”

And he let the conversation drop.

A few yards on down the road, Susanna picked it up again.

“Eagle Jack?” she said. “Don't forget that Marvin and his friends think we're married.”

He looked at her sharply, but her face told him nothing.

T
he dust cloud up ahead grew darker and the noise of bawling cattle carried to them on the wind.

“That's in my south pasture,” Susanna said. “Maybe Tucker and his boys have about got them all out of the mesquite.”

Now whatever had been worrying her seemed to be gone. He could hear only excitement in her voice, and that was a relief.

It was true that he was curious about everyone and she was interesting, but he'd felt such a jolt of sympathy at her dire straits that it had unsettled him. Next thing he knew, he'd be feeling even more responsibility for her than he already did.

“I'm banking on that,” he said, forcing a light tone into his voice and hoping it'd be contagious.
“I'd sure rather count and brand them than to chase them out of the brush.”

“I'm praying they got them all,” she said. “I can't wait to see how many there are.” She turned and flashed that rare smile of hers. “I just look at them and think: ‘each one is twenty dollars on the hoof'.”

“If we can get them enough grass on the way north,” he said.

Her smile faded.

He felt bad that he had burst her bubble and added to her worries, but all he'd told her was the truth. Anybody going up the trail had best be ready for all the dangers.

Hey, Sixkiller, get a grip. Go soft with her now and you'll have to worry with her all the way to Abilene.

Eagle Jack looked at the dust cloud and took himself to task. He
could
not, he
would
not start feeling sorry for her now. He'd never live through three months and a thousand miles of nursemaiding Susanna.

You've got a plan, boy, and you'd best stick to it
.

Whoever heard of a woman on the trail! What he was fighting for, here, was his own survival, so he had to stay tough.

And he would. In the next two days, he was going to put her through as much of what she'd face on her way north with a herd of cattle as he possibly could. He would be merciless.

They rode up to the herd from the south side and a brushpopper he assumed was Tucker came loping out to meet them.

“Them three boys over there say you've done hired 'em for the trail, Miss Susanna,” he said, briefly taking off his hat to her. “I put 'em to work holding the herd.”

“That's right, Tucker,” she said. “How many head do you guess y'all have gathered?”

He wiped the dust from his face while he thought about that.

“I'd say near eight hundred but I can't guarantee it.”

“Are you done?” she asked.

“As close to done as we're gonna get,” he said. “That one bald-faced brindle bull we never did bring in. We choused him around a time or two and got a rope on him once but we never could get him out of that little ravine he likes so much.”

She nodded. “Leave him. You've done the best you could and it's time to get on the trail.” She turned to Eagle Jack. “This is Tucker Banyon,” she said. “Tucker, this is my husband, Eagle Jack Sixkiller.”

The title of husband sent another shock through him, as it had done the first time. It seemed unnecessary, but then maybe not, since she had already started this charade in Salado with Marvin and his gang and now they were here.

Tucker leaned from his saddle to shake hands and so did Eagle Jack.

It certainly didn't matter. He'd never see this man again, anyhow.

Eagle Jack grinned to himself. It was a good thing he wasn't taking her with him any farther than this. If word of his “marriage” got back to the Sixes and Sevens it would cause a riot.

As he sat back and half listened to Susanna talking to Tucker about her cattle, he had a flashing vision of his family's reaction to such news. His mother would be beside herself with happiness that he was settling down at last. In fact, even if he told her it was all a pretense, she would refuse to believe that and would try to convince him to make it real and give her some grandchildren. His father and brothers and all the hands would hoo-rah him unmercifully and Grandfather Bushy-head would insist on doing a medicine ceremony over him and Susanna.

Yes, if he ever got married, it would cause a great stir, since he was known far and wide as a ladies' man who never stayed long with just one. All the young girls whose mamas were angling for them to marry into one of the richest families with one of the biggest ranches in Central Texas, Indian or not, would be crushed. Or at least their mamas would be.

And all the girls who chased after him because
he was Indian and therefore dangerous and forbidden by their mamas would be mad at him. He'd surely hate to disappoint them like that. Why, if he ever got married, everything would change in his life and even he wouldn't be able to recognize himself.

“Somebody comin',” Tucker said.

Eagle Jack turned to look. “Must be your horses, Susanna,” he said.

Tucker went back to the herd and Eagle Jack and Susanna turned to go meet the arriving remuda. She rode ahead of him, one slender arm high in the air to signal the incoming riders to follow her. Then she lifted her awkward mount into a lope and headed for the house, an unpainted cabin on a low knoll to the north.

She was first to reach the large corral on the flat below the house. Leaning from her saddle, she opened its gate and Eagle Jack caught it and fastened it back.

He eyed the horses as they loped through the opening, picking and choosing. They wouldn't need all of these, even if they were taking only Susanna's cattle and not joining up with the Sixes and Sevens herd. Mr. Adams must be giving Susanna a lot of choices in horseflesh. Maybe he was a very generous man.

Or a very greedy one. If she used them all to herd her cattle on her way north, when she brought
them back this fall Adams would collect rent on each one—plus compensation, no doubt, for any that got killed or lamed.

Three young cowboys and one older man stayed behind as the last horse went through the gate and Eagle Jack closed it. The older man, who must be Adams, started toward him and Susanna.

“Well, there you are, missy,” he called to her. “Now you've got what will be the best remuda on the Chisholm Trail.”

It didn't look so hot to Eagle Jack. The two mule teams looked strong and sturdy but some of the horses looked as if they were on their last legs, like the dregs of an auction barn.

The old coot might be setting things up so that Susanna would, without fail, have to pay some compensation when fall rolled around.

As he got closer, Eagle Jack saw that his saddle was old and worn, as were his ancient-looking clothes.

“He looks like a pauper,” Susanna muttered, “but he owns half the county and the town, too.” She raised her voice.

“Thank you for the use of your animals, Mr. Adams,” she said.

She sounded tense and her whole body had stiffened.

“My pleasure, my dear,” the man said and then he was close enough for Eagle Jack to see his pale face.

His small eyes, a washed-out hazel color, were fixed on Susanna. He behaved as if Eagle Jack were a post in the fence.

“However, I think you'll need to take some of them back home with you, Mr. Adams,” she said. “We agreed on two teams of mules but I wasn't expecting you to bring this many horses.”

Eagle Jack looked at her with new respect. She wasn't quite as much a tenderfoot as he'd thought.

Adams waved her words away. “I got my hands on a few extra horses the other day, and want you to take them,” he said.

“But I can't afford too many…” she said.

“Now, don't you worry about anything like that,” Mr. Adams interrupted. “If you don't make as big a profit as you're expecting, and you can't pay me in hard cash, then I'll understand.” He rode up to them and stopped on the opposite side of Susanna, holding his horse right beside hers, head to tail.

Eagle Jack didn't like the gleam in the old man's eye.

And neither did she. He knew her well enough by now to tell.

“Remember what I told you,” Adams said, adding some oil to his scratchy voice, “we'll work out some other way for you to compensate me.”

He spoke very low, but Eagle Jack heard every word.

And everything he didn't say. There was absolutely no doubt what Adams meant by ‘some other way', since the old lecher was openly leering at Susanna. There was no other word for it.

Eagle Jack felt a surge of anger like he hadn't known for years. If he only knew it, the old reprobate was about to get his teeth shoved down his throat.

“I'll pay you in hard cash, Mr. Adams,” Susanna said. “That was our agreement.”

Her tone was sure, almost hard. But her hands convulsed and clasped each other more tightly above her saddle horn.

Eagle Jack watched closely. So this was what had been bothering her earlier and causing her to be so evasive when he'd asked about the remuda.

“No, no, beautiful Miss Susanna, I don't want you upset in your mind all the way to Abilene about paying for the use of my horses,” Adams said. He frowned as if that would upset his mind terribly, too. Then he swept off his hat, laid it over his heart, and pasted an ugly smile onto his equally ugly face. “Of course, I
would
like to think that from time to time your thoughts might roam back to me, my dear.” He widened his fawning smile. “That would be the desire of my heart.”

Susanna sat very straight in her saddle and looked at Adams with a wry, cool smile.

“I'm sure I'll think of you each time I look at
your horses,” she said. “And I'll do my very best to bring them back to you in good condition.”

Adams kept his smile and his stare on her for another long heartbeat, then he replaced his hat on his head with a sweeping gesture evidently meant to be a graceful flourish.

Eagle Jack had to restrain himself from leaping across Susanna's horse's neck and knocking the dirty old man out of the saddle and onto the ground. Adams had no right whatsoever to look at her like that.

But he couldn't mix in her business without getting deeper into this mess, could he? He could not tell the old bastard to take his horses out of there and never set foot on Brushy Creek again or he'd be setting himself up as Susanna's protector and meddling in her personal life.

Her personal life was what he was trying to stay out of.

All he was going to do was be a sort of business partner until her cattle were sold. That was it. That was all.

And even as far as business was concerned, she had been right, back there on the road. This was a decision she'd already made before he'd come on the scene. He had to let it be.

“My only concern is that you bring your own beautiful self back from Kansas in the same condition that you left Texas…” Adams said.

Eagle Jack's thin patience snapped. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said.

The apology came out of his mouth in a slow, dangerous drawl that contradicted the words themselves.

Adams lifted his beady eyes from Susanna's face and looked at Eagle Jack for the first time. He sneered.

“We're burning daylight here,” Eagle Jack said. “We've got branding to do.”

“Who are you to speak for the lady? She's accustomed to conducting business for herself.”

“Not with rattlesnakes, she isn't,” Eagle Jack said. “A lady accustomed to dealing with decent people is at a disadvantage dealing with scum.”

Adams stared at him.

Susanna, too, was staring at him—he knew because he could feel her eyes on him but he didn't even glance at her. He couldn't take his eyes off Adams and he couldn't think of anything but how much he wished the man would go for his gun.

But Adams was probably too much of a coward to carry one. No doubt one of the men with him was his gun hand. Eagle Jack didn't even deign to glance in that direction.

He motioned low at his side for Susanna to move her horse back and silently thanked God when she obeyed.

Adams had two spots of color in his cheeks
now. He had not moved a muscle. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice slipping a notch higher.

“I'm Susanna's husband. Eagle Jack Sixkiller is my name.”

Adams's narrow eyes widened. He looked at Susanna. “Husband? Why didn't you tell me you were married?”

“You didn't ask,” she said.

Eagle Jack looked toward Adams's men. They were slumped in their saddles, quietly talking and smoking.

He opened his mouth to tell Adams to take his men and his horses and hit the road but he shut it again. Even with Tucker and his men helping, the crew couldn't brand several hundred cattle in two days and then drive them up the trail far enough to meet the Sixes and Sevens herd without fresh horses.

And it had to be done in two days. Molly was getting farther and farther away from him, running her heart out in the horse thieves' clutches.

“I'll buy your horses,” he said to Adams, who was actually turning paler, although that would've seemed impossible since he was so pasty-faced to start with. “I'll give you two hundred dollars for the lot of them.”

They were worth no more than three hundred at the most, including the mules.

Adams stared at him. “Susanna,” he said, with
out turning his head to look at her, “is it true that this man is your husband?”

“Yes,” she said firmly, “he is. And he's going up the trail with me as trail boss for my cattle.”

Eagle Jack stared at Adams some more. “You won't be talking to my wife again,” he said. “So take the money or take your horses and get off her land.”

“Four hundred,” Adams said.

“Two and a half,” Eagle Jack said. “Last offer.”

“Hard cash,” Adams said.

Without looking away from him, Eagle Jack reached into his shirt pocket for the money he'd gotten at the bank in Salado. He opened the small pouch and shook out double eagles into the palm of his other hand until he had enough.