Wicked Wyoming Nights (2 page)

Eliza flushed in the darkness. At twenty she was a grown woman, but virtually cut off from social contact since she was ten, she had built her expectations of marriage on her dimly remembered parents’ devotion to each other. One particularly melancholy night she had confided her dreams of love to her uncle, and she had never ceased to regret it. He had torn her illusions apart fragment by fragment and then laughed at her, not in sympathy or amusement but with a cruel, taunting rasp that scoured her tender soul.

She had thought of running away, but there was nowhere for a girl without a husband or family to go and no way for a respectable female to earn a living. She was just as firmly bound to her uncle by circumstances as she was by her vow to her aunt.

Sarah Smallwood had loved her husband deeply, but she was well aware of his shortcomings. “Promise me you won’t ever leave him,” she had begged Eliza when she knew she was dying. “He can’t manage by himself” Neither then nor now did Eliza understand how she was supposed to help her uncle, but her resolution to honor her vow never wavered, not even when Ira was about to embark on a scheme no more likely to prosper than any of the others he had taken up and discarded over the past ten years. It never did any good to try and reason with him, so she started to prepare for bed.

“Are you sure it’s safe to sleep on the wet ground?” Eliza asked. He had been coughing a lot recently.

“Don’t worry about me. Just make sure breakfast is ready on time.”

“It always is,” she whispered under her breath, and closed the flap behind her.

Eliza felt more hopeful next morning. The ground was stiff with frost, but the sky was clear and the greening plains stretched limitlessly before her. The icy coldness of the stream felt good to her skin. Her uncle was up and gone without telling her when he’d be back. It was always this way, she thought, yet he expected his breakfast to be ready the minute he returned. She worked silently, never once feeling the hopeful excitement of new surroundings or untested opportunity. Her world was bound by work and fear of the unknown, so much so that when she looked up to see two horsemen approaching she was immediately filled with misgivings.

“Uncle Ira!” she called in a long, drawn-out wail, but he was nowhere in sight. She was going to have to confront these men alone, and her heart started beating so hard it hurt. She faced them across the fire not knowing why they were bearing down on her at a gallop or what she could do to defend herself. Her mind was so paralyzed with fear she didn’t notice their faces were not those of hardened of murderers, but of boys no older than herself. In her distraught mind they looked like the type of terrifying enemy her uncle had warned against for the last ten years.

The riders slowed their approach, and she dashed behind the wagon; they divided, one on each side, and with a shriek she tried to take refuge inside, but the shorter man leapt from the saddle and grabbed her by the waist. She whirled, confronting him with the terror-filled eyes of a cornered animal. The shock of finding a beautiful woman in his arms so stunned the young attacker he loosened his grip long enough for Eliza to break away and she made a desperate dash for the willow thicket.

“Now look what you’ve done Royce,” yelled his disgusted companion. “I’d be ashamed for anyone to know I couldn’t hold on to a girl, even if she was bigger than me.” This dig at his short statue helped Royce recover his tongue.

“Did you see her, Sturgis?” he asked earnestly. “There ain’t no angels prettier than she is.”

“You’ll
be
an angel if we don’t get these squatters out of here before the boss hears about it. He’s still so worked up over them rustlers he’s liable to take the hide right off your back.” Royce climbed back into the saddle.

“But I had her in my arms,“ he stressed.

“Use your rope if you’re afraid to touch her.” Sturgis looked around, but Eliza had disappeared among the drooping branches. “Damn, now we’ve lost her. Mr. Stedman will turn us off for sure if we don’t do no better’n this. Keep an eye out for her husband while I circle around the other side. Now where’d she get to?” he called when he couldn’t find her. “Did she come out your side?”

“No, she’s still in there.”

“I’ll be damned if I can see her. See if you can flush her out.” The boys circled the ticket, peering into the heavily budded branches. “There she is, between those two trunks.”

“Please go away,” Eliza begged when Sturgis dismounted. “I haven’t done anything to you.”

“We just want to talk to you, lady.” Eliza was faster in moccasins than Sturgis was in his high-heeled boots, and she scampered out of his reach. “Use your rope, fool,” he yelled at Royce. The bemused young man quickly looped his lasso and threw it with a quick, practiced motion that settled it about Eliza’s waist. Her fingers clawed wildly at the tightening ring, but it clamped down on her just as inexorably as it had on hundreds of calves.

“Please don’t dishonor me,” she entreated. “Let me go.” The boys gaped at each other.

“Nobody’s going to do anything like that,” Royce stammered, embarrassed at being thought to harbor such wicked designs on the person of a female. “This is Matador grazing land, ma’am, and Mr. Stedman don’t allow nobody on it.” But Eliza couldn’t have been more frightened if she had been captured by painted savages, and she prepared to fight for her very life. When Sturgis approached her, she charged him like a demented virago, and Royce had to pull the rope taut to prevent her doing serious damage to his face.

“Whee!” gasped Sturgis when he was safely out of range. “I think she’s crazy.”

“Uncle!” shrieked Eliza, thoughtlessly giving warning of Ira’s approach. Cursing his niece’s stupidity, Ira headed for the wagon and his rifle at a dead run, but Sturgis had time to mount his horse and throw a second rope over him.

“You simple-minded fool!” Ira howled, struggling so fiercely he fell to his knees. “If you’d kept your mouth shut, I could have put a bullet through both the bastards.”

“Nobody’s going to shoot anybody,” Sturgis said sternly, recovering his balance now that he faced a hostile man instead of a frightened woman. “We just came to say you can’t settle here.”

“This is government land,” growled Ira, struggling to his feet. “It’s free to anybody who’ll work it.”

“It’s in the middle of the Matador, and Mr. Stedman won’t allow any squatters on this creek.” Ira battled the rope, but Sturgis’s pony kept it taut. Too dazed to struggle for her own release, Eliza watched wide-eyed as her uncle unexpectedly sprinted toward Sturgis’s horse. The rope went slack, and free of the noose, Ira headed for the wagon as fast as his legs would carry his thin, aging body.

“He’s going for his rifle,” Sturgis yelled, discarding the now useless rope. Royce threw himself from the saddle, and in seconds the three men were rolling in the dust. The boys were young and strong, but Ira fought with the strength of rage. Eliza, watching with terror-stricken eyes, slumped to her knees when they at last pinned the bloodied and exhausted man to the ground.

“You’ll pay for this,” Ira panted through gritted teeth. Unable to break the hold on his arms and neck, he relaxed and Royce, inexperienced and out of breath himself, was caught off guard. With a yell of triumph Ira whipped over and around on top of him, but Sturgis dealt him a heavy blow to the back of his head and Ira subsided, too stunned to move, his eyes blazing with hate.

“Tie him up before he jumps me again.”

“If you weren’t so careless—”

“Shut up and get your rope.” Ira’s feeble struggles were to no avail and he was soon bound securely. “What are we going to do with her?” Royce asked getting to his feet. “She might fetch help if we let her go.”

“Where from? There’s nobody for miles, and even if there was, she wouldn’t know where to find them.”

“If you’re so smart, then you decide what to do with them.” Sturgis studied the two for so long Royce became impatient.

“Let’s put them in the wagon and chase them off,” he suggested.

“I’ll be back with the sheriff before nightfall,” bellowed Ira. “Then we’ll see who stops me from homesteading this piece.”

An angry, goaded look settled over Sturgis’s young face. “Won’t be much use in coming back if you don’t have nothing to set up housekeeping with,” he said, glancing significantly at the wagon and the animals tied behind. “Come on, Royce. Let’s have a little fun.”

“Don’t you touch that wagon,” shouted Ira, but Sturgis ignored him and climbed inside with the excitement of a little boy about to enjoy a forbidden treat.

“I can’t see what anybody would want with these,” he said, pulling out Eliza’s battered pots. “Ought to be gotten rid of,” and he pitched them, one after the other, into the dirt, where Royce stomped them into an unusable mass of crumpled metal. Plates and cups followed until the ground was littered with breakage. Next he found Ira’s bedroll and scattered its contents; finally he turned to their trunks and ransacked them for shirts, pants, and underwear. “Look here,” Sturgis chirped. “Have you ever seen anything like this?” He pranced out holding up a chemise.

“Woo-wee!” whistled Royce, dancing away with it in his arms like it was a girl. Sturgis tossed out some more of Eliza’s underthings, and soon the two boys were cavorting about like idiots dressed in garments that would normally have caused them to blush just to mention. Eliza, frightened and humiliated, could hardly see for the tears in her eyes.

“Just look what your stupidity has done,” Ira lamented, casting all the blame on her.

“I couldn’t help it. They came up so suddenly.”

“You wasted our last chance standing there like a block while they tied me up. You could have shot them both.”

“I couldn’t,” she shuddered, shrinking from the idea of shooting anyone.

“Don’t talk to me” he said peevishly. “It puts me out of temper just to hear your voice. Stop, you devils!” Ira yelled as Sturgis tossed out a book. “I’ll have you hanged for this.”

“There’s enough for a real blaze,” Sturgis called gleefully to Royce.

With a shriek that penetrated even the boys’ destruction drunk brains, Eliza pitched herself at Sturgis, and pushing him as hard as she could, knocked the book from his hands and snatched up the volume from the dust, but Sturgis pushed her to the ground with complete disregard for cowboy chivalry. Meanwhile, Royce gleefully scooped up a pot of live coals and threw them at the canvas cover of the wagon causing it to burst into flames. With a sob, Eliza scrambled to her feet in a vain attempt to reach her precious books, but Sturgis imprisoned her arms and laughed at her struggles.

Immobilized by the ropes that bound his hands and feet, Ira watched in helpless rage as the leaping flames consumed the canvas, but he fell into a ranting fury when Royce released their pig and aimed his rifle squarely between the horns of their milk cow.

Chapter 2

“What in hell do you think you’re doing?” thundered a voice that stopped the two arsonists in their tracks. Eliza spun around to find a tall man on a huge black gelding less than twenty feet away.

Eliza would have been frightened by Cord Stedman on foot, but on horseback he looked bigger than life and she felt ready to faint. Here was the cowman her uncle had warned her about for so long; Eliza felt sure she was facing the Devil himself. Sturgis and Royce could see their wrathful employer in a more rational perspective, but at the moment their view was not very far from Eliza’s.

“W-we were just c-c-chasing some h-h-homesteaders off the creek,” Sturgis managed to say while Royce stood with slack jaw and staring eyes.

“Put out that fire, you young fools, and the first one to shoot a cow will be digging a bullet out of his own hide.”

For a fraction of a second the boys stood paralyzed, then almost simultaneously they sped into action. The fire had gained a strong hold, and even soaking their shirts in the creek couldn’t keep it from consuming the last of the canvas. The sight of the dreadful, smoldering mess was too much for Eliza’s nerves and she sat down on the ground with a hiccuping cry.

Cord quickly dismounted and reached out for her hand. Eliza’s sobs stopped with jarring suddenness when she felt his touch; she yanked her hand back and stared at him with alarm in her eyes.

“You don’t have to be frightened,” he said softly. “I won’t hurt you.” Gently he pried her hands apart and lifted her to her feet. Eliza tried hard to pull away, but his strength was amazing and she was helplessly forced to do as he willed. She knew she ought to run, but her legs wouldn’t respond. Instead she gaped foolishly, afraid of what he would do next, unable to believe he had come in the guise of a friend.

“How’s she supposed to believe you when your hooligans have just about destroyed everything we own?” Ira bellowed furiously. “You’re a bigger villain than they are.”

Cord turned his hard, measuring gaze on the bound man “Didn’t the boys tell you to move on?”

“They came prancing in here, like every other cocksure cowboy I ever saw, trying to lay claim to the whole county.”

“Then you’ve had your warning, so you’ve got no one to blame but yourself.”

“You can’t keep me off this land,” Ira exploded.

“I don’t want trouble, but I can’t have rustlers settling in the middle of my herds.”

“I’m not a rustler,” Ira swore wrathfully.