Wildblossom (15 page)

"What the hell's goin' on over there?" Bart Croll snarled, dragging on his cigarette. "I don't take kindly to rustlers, 'specially ones who come on my land in broad daylight!" He began loading his rifle.

Geoff didn't see that he had a choice. Sighing, he confessed, "Mr. Croll, I know that this will seem suspicious to you, but I think that horse belongs to the Matthews girl, Shelby. She's a scamp and I would venture a guess that she was bored this morning and decided to follow me over here. I'm certain she's only having a bit of fun. No harm intended!"

As the two men approached the cattle, Shelby climbed back onto Gadabout's back and waved, smiling brightly. "Good morning! Are you wondering what I'm doing in the middle of a lot of cows?" She guided the pinto out into the open and gave Geoff a winning smile. "Don't be angry with me, Mr. Weston! It was just a game, to see if you wouldn't notice me!"

"I don't take kindly to folks playin' games on my property!" Bart Croll put in. "If it'd been upta me, I'd've shot first and asked questions later! Remember that next time, missy!" He glared at Geoff. "Take her home. I gotta get to work; ain't got no more time for you crazies."

Watching them leave, his dark eyes burned like coals.

* * *

Too angry to speak to Shelby until their own house was in sight, Geoff finally slowed Charlie and allowed her smaller pony to catch up.

"Good grief!" she cried breathlessly, when they were nearly even. "I've been chasing you for miles!"

Having eased Charlie into a brisk canter, he glanced down at her with an expression of dark fury. "I could wring your neck! You are the most foolhardy, contrary—"

"For a titled gentleman, you sure are free and easy with the double-barreled insults!" Shelby protested. "Didn't you learn manners from all your governesses and private schools?"

"My manners are not the issue!" His jaw clenched as he tried to reel in his temper. "Your madcap behavior is. Don't you realize that you could have been killed back there? I didn't even know you were on that ranch, sneaking around, until Bart Croll saw you himself! He would have
shot
you, for God's sake, if I hadn't intervened!"

"Could, would, might! I'd rather talk about what
is!"
She reached over and caught his coat sleeve. "Slow down and listen to me—this is important! Don't you see, I had to go over there this morning. I knew he'd never tell you the truth, and I was hoping that you two would stay in the house, or nearby, and talk, so that I would be free to check his cattle—"

"Well then, why didn't you tell me? I could have concocted an excuse to stall him from riding the fences!"

Shelby widened her eyes. "Why didn't I think of that?
Maybe
because I didn't think you'd let me! Maybe because I was afraid you'd chain me to our hitching post before you agreed to such a scheme!"

Fuming, Geoff looked away. For a person who was accustomed to feeling nothing, these forceful responses were almost more than he could endure. "If you'd just behave yourself in the first place, you'd save us all a lot of trouble...."

"But then we wouldn't know that... Bart Croll
has
our cattle!" Shelby stood up in the stirrups, wearing her most incandescent grin. "Oh, Geoff, I saw them with my own eyes—all eight! I'd just about given up hope, when I came to that last batch—and there they were!"

"And how can you be certain? Our animals hadn't been branded yet."

"Why, I recognized them!"

"What!" he cried in exasperation.

"It's true! He doesn't have many Herefords, especially any as fine as ours. Didn't you see how thin his cattle were? But beyond that, I was able to definitely identify nearly every one of the eight, and the others were right by their sides."

The Sunshine Ranch buildings were in sight now, and Charlie eagerly picked up his pace. Looking back over his shoulder, Geoff demanded, "Devil take it, how could you possibly make a positive identification of a steer?"

"They have faces, too, you know. Markings that set them apart! And our cattle know me." Stubbornly, she came alongside again, long enough to touch his sleeve and add, "They miss us and their home—and they made cow eyes at me!"

In spite of himself, Geoff started laughing.

* * *

After considering the situation overnight, Geoff decided to speak to the town marshal in Cody, a fellow by the name of Burns, about Bart Croll and their cattle.

He would have liked to ride into town alone, but by now he knew better than to attempt to exclude Shelby. If he did, she'd only pop up at the worst possible moment. So, over breakfast the next morning, Geoff casually mentioned that he would visit Marshal Burns that afternoon. Would she like to come along and do some shopping at the Cody Trading Company?

Shelby felt that it was a waste of time to bring the marshal into their affairs, but refrained from arguing. After all, Geoffrey was from England, where one assumed that the justice system worked properly. Law and order in the West was another matter. But she humored him, and that strategy earned Shelby a place beside him on the buckboard at midday.

They shared a festive mood as they set out, for the weather remained splendid, the snow was nearly gone, the sunshine had helped to dry up the mud, and birds were singing as if intoxicated. Sitting next to Geoff on the buckboard's padded seat, Shelby was filled with a sweet happiness and she savored it. Spring had bounced back, its magic more potent than ever.

Even from a distance the little town of Cody seemed to be infused with all the vigor of its namesake, the celebrated Buffalo Bill. There appeared to be a lot of activity under way, as if fueled by the vitality of spring.

"As I understand it," Shelby explained, "Colonel Cody has had two primary projects in mind to get his town on its feet. First, he has been determined to build a road connecting Cody to Yellowstone National Park's eastern entrance, about fifty miles away. He sees the town as a jumping-off place for visitors to the park—"

"Quite farsighted of him," Geoff remarked as they came to the edge of Cody.

"Indeed, and I believe they expect to finish the Cody Road this summer! His second project is his grand hotel—over there...." She pointed to the corner of Fourth and Sheridan streets, where a huge sandstone building with a spacious veranda was nearly completed. The hotel already dwarfed every other structure in sight. "Colonel Cody means to name it for his daughter, Irma. I heard every room will be heated by steam and lit by gas—and Uncle Ben says it will cost nearly eighty thousand dollars when it's finished!"

Drawing gently on the reins, Geoff slowed the buckboard and stared at the magnificent two-story hotel. "I'm impressed by Cody's vision... but who will stay in all those rooms? There are only a few hundred people in this entire town. What need have they for such a huge hotel?"

Shelby laughed. "Colonel Cody doesn't think that way! I believe that, for him, the hotel is a symbol of his hopes for Cody. It's almost as if by building this he has willed prosperity for his town."

There was plenty of other news that May afternoon. Two telephone companies had been granted franchises by the town council, and now poles and wires were going up everywhere. The
Cody Enterprise
had just opened its offices across from Dr. Chamberlain's residence. When Geoff went in to buy a newspaper, he discovered that the telephone exchange was being set up in a little back room of the Amoretti and Parks Bank, and everyone was anxious to ring up "Central."

"I perceive that even the West isn't safe from progress," he remarked dryly as they leaned against the buckboard and scanned the newspaper together, both hungry for information. "Soon enough everyone will want a motorcar, and horses will be obsolete...."

Shelby sensed that his thoughts were elsewhere and she was about to be put off. "Will you take me with you to your meeting with Marshal Burns?"

"If it were a simply matter of principle and fairness to you, I would, certainly, but I don't think your presence would aid our cause." When Geoff pushed back his gray Stetson, a lock of hair fell across his brow. "Frankly, I think that if we're together, he'll wonder what's afoot—and I don't think he'll speak as freely. I promise to tell you everything that's said, however—and I further promise to pay for anything you want to buy at the Trading Company!"

Her eyes flashed. "Why do men believe that shopping can defuse all conflicts with women?"

Vastly amused, he turned his palms up in a gesture of mock despair. "I'll meet you at the Cody Trading Company no later than one hour from now—much sooner, I hope."

Geoff tipped his hat to her then sauntered off down Sheridan Avenue toward the marshal's office. Against her will, Shelby found herself staring at him. It was hard not to, for Geoffrey Weston was an exceptionally fine-looking man, and there was another quality about him that she couldn't describe but that multiplied his attraction.

It had to do with the way he was gradually adapting to their western ways. Shelby found that endearing—the sight of him from behind, walking more like a ranch hand than a nobleman. And she loved the gleam in his soft brown eyes, the curve of his cheekbones, and the way he was laughing more, and getting tanned and hard in the western sunshine.

His shoulders were straight and wide, heart-meltingly appealing in the flannel shirt he wore. His hips were lean, and the muscles in his thighs were long, shaped by a different sort of horseback riding than they did in the West, Shelby suspected. Sometimes, she imagined Geoff in proper riding attire, sailing over a hedge or a stream during a fox hunt.

But for now, he was here with her in Cody, Wyoming. Shelby scolded her heart to be still as Geoff disappeared into the new jail where Marshal Burns had his office.

Did he really expect her to go
shopping
at a time like this?

Biting her lip, she contemplated the Cody Trading Company, then set off in the opposite direction. There was more than one way to skin a cat, wasn't there? Surely the marshal's office had windows, and surely they'd be open on a beautiful day like this!

Why should Geoff care if she just
listened—
as long as no one knew she was there?

Chapter 8

"I remember you," said the old man sitting at the roll top desk inside Marshal Burns's office. His bald pate was sunburned, and his large stomach and bulbous nose betrayed his affection for strong spirits. "I was at Purcell's Saloon the day you come to town and won the Sunshine Ranch."

"I see." Geoff wasn't sure whether this fellow was Burns or not. He didn't wear a badge. "Well, everything has worked out quite agreeably between the Avery-Matthews family and myself. We've developed a good partnership." He extended his hand. "My name, incidentally, is Geoffrey Weston. It's a pleasure to meet you...."

"I'm jest the deputy." He pretended not to notice Geoff's hand as he shuffled papers on the desk and aimed a stream of tobacco juice toward a battered spittoon. "You kin call me Ted."

"Ah, rather like your President Roosevelt!" Geoff rejoined, hoping to coax a smile from the fellow.

"Uh-huh." He found a match on the cluttered desktop and began to pick his teeth. " 'Spose you're lookin' for Marshal Burns..."

"Yes."

"He's out collectin' fines, and buryin' a dog, I think. He gets an extra dollar for every dog he buries."

"Very interesting." Unwilling to pursue that subject, Geoff glanced at the oversized clock ticking on the wall. "Given the distance I have to travel to town, I'd rather not make two trips. Perhaps I could explain my problem to you, Deputy Ted, and you could then tell Marshal Burns."

"Mebbe."

At times like these, his restrained British upbringing served him well.
He drew up a chair next to Ted's and said, "You see, during last week's blizzard, we lost eight cattle that had not yet been branded. Our ranch hasn't had its first roundup, and although we had finished the fences, a tree fell on one section, and it seems that these cattle must have slipped out during the storm."

"That was mighty careless of you folks."

"Actually, we did everything possible to make certain that the cattle got back to the corral—short of losing our lives. But when a count was made the next day, we were eight short."

"You makin' an accusation, mister?"