Wildblossom (8 page)

"Where does your father live?"

"In Deadwood, South Dakota." Her misery swelled as she said the words.

"Well, there's no reason he should have to hear about this for the time being, is there? And who is that Ben fellow? I gather he isn't pleased with the day's events."

Shelby poured out the whole story then, beginning with her father's decision to buy land near Cody and ending with her scheme to purchase farming equipment and horses for breeding. "I know I'm right about expanding our operation, but I wanted to prove to Daddy that I could do it on my own, without going to him for more money! Uncle Ben and Titus built this house and the other buildings, and my uncle has been locking horns with me about the proper way to manage the ranch ever since I arrived. When he finds you here, he'll
kill
me!"

"I highly doubt that... and while I can sympathize with your sense of despair, I have interests of my own to protect." Geoff stood up, his tone kind but firm. "Perhaps you will learn a lesson from this experience, Shelby—although I would be sorry if it made you shy away from adventure in the future. Coyote Matt was an unforgettable piece of work." He tilted his head, regarding her with something akin to tenderness. "Meanwhile, I trust we'll find a way to get along."

Titus took the two men to the spare bedrooms that opened off the kitchen. It had seemed easier, with Shelby in the house, for Titus and Ben to live in the newly completed bunkhouse with the cowboys, and so there were three extra bedrooms in the house.

Soon it was dark, and Jimmy, Cal, Lucius, and Marsh returned from their day's work rounding up strays and building fences. Titus had them transport the trunks from the buckboard to the rooms of the ranch's new co-owner, who was dozing contentedly in a tub of steaming water.

Ben was the last to appear. Silent, his eyes burning, he listened to Titus's report of the events that had transpired after his exit from Purcell's Saloon. Shelby, he was told, had taken to her bed.

"For Pete's sake, Titus, how could you let this happen?" Ben groaned when he found his voice.

"Me? So this is
my
fault? I don't really think it makes sense to go blamin' now that the damage is done. Besides, this fellow isn't a bad sort."

Ben shook his big head. "What in blazes could a dude from England possibly know about runnin' a ranch? This is the kind of gigantic mess only
Shelby
could've made!" With that, he strode through the big room to her door, banged on it, then pushed it open. Her bedroom was pitch-dark. "Shel? Answer me!"

She moaned faintly from the direction of her bed.

"What do you mean to do now, you little so-and-so?"

"Just lie here...." Shelby paused for effect, then murmured in pitiful tones, "My life is over, Uncle Ben. I'll just lie here on my bed until I waste away, and then you'll be rid of me...."

"Aw, geez!" With the firelight spilling through the doorway, he was able to find his way to her bedside. The springs creaked as Ben Avery sat down beside his prostrate niece and patted her shoulder. "Never mind. I forgive you. You can't help gettin' us into jams, I guess. It's just the way you are."

A smile spread over her face in the darkness. "Whew! Now that you're on my side again, we can figure out a way to get rid of that awful man! Between us, we ought to be able to make ranch life so horrible for him that he'll
pay
us to take back his winnings!" Shelby sat up, her excitement revived. "I'll bet you I can have him running back to London before the first roundup!"

* * *

During the next two days, Geoff saw little of Shelby. He spent most of his time in Cody, getting to know the townspeople, establishing an account at the Amoretti and Parks Bank, investigating the opportunities for investment in the Irma Hotel which Buffalo Bill was constructing, and buying new clothing and supplies at the Cody Trading Company.

Geoff's other major purchase was a magnificent buckskin stallion. Pleasure coursed through his veins each time he looked at the horse, and he felt happy beyond words when he was riding him. On a whim, Geoff christened the buckskin Charlie, and each time he said the name, he smiled at the thought of his old friend. All was forgiven now; he was grateful to Charles for guiding him to Wyoming, and immensely pleased with himself for coming.

On the afternoon Ben and Titus were to set out for Billings to make the purchases for the ranch, Geoff arrived back from Cody just in time to see them off. Shelby was standing on the veranda, watching for him, when he rode up on Charlie. It surprised her to observe his horsemanship; somehow she expected him to be inexperienced, but instead he rode with easy grace and assurance.

Ben had slipped through the screen door and come up behind her. "Stop being shocked that he came west with some skills he could use out here," he murmured, reading her mind. "I'd think, considering what happened when you underestimated Weston's talent for poker, that you'd try not to jump to any more conclusions."

"I'll find his Achilles heel yet," she replied stubbornly. "Anyway, I'm glad he's back. I hope he remembered to go to the bank. Are you ready?" Shelby turned to straighten her uncle's coat collar, presenting her back to Geoff as he swung down from Charlie's back.

"Yeah, I'm ready, and so's Titus and Jimmy, but we don't like to leave you here alone. You sure you'll be okay?"

"Who'll be alone? Not I! Marsh and Cal and Lucius will be with me... not to mention those two
other
people." A spark of mischief gleamed in her eyes as she stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, "With a little luck, I'll succeed in driving
him
off before you get back."

"Shel-by," Ben growled, his brow furrowed.

"What's wrong?" Geoff asked in a light tone as he stepped onto the porch. "I hope Shelby isn't plotting my untimely demise."

Her cheeks burned. She turned to face him, and then embarrassment was pushed aside by an unexpected surge of female appreciation for his appearance. When she allowed herself to consider such matters, Shelby was forced to admit that Geoffrey Weston had looked splendid even when his clothing had been much too fancy for Cody, Wyoming. Now he had made a smooth transformation into the role of gentleman rancher. His choice of horse had been impeccable; the buckskin stallion was simply a prize. Equally impressive were the clothes that Geoff now wore as if he'd been born to them. This afternoon he was clad in stone-colored pants and fine boots. His shirt was faded blue chambray set off by a chile-red kerchief knotted loosely around his neck, and he wore a butter-soft leather vest that looked completely broken in. His physique was both lithe and strong; clearly he had been a sportsman long before aspiring to life in the American West. He was acquiring a golden tan, and his hair shone when he removed his white Stetson and idly reshaped its folds.

"Cat got your tongue, Shel?" Ben taunted her gently.

"I was—" She took a breath, gathering her thoughts. "I was just thinking how quickly our new partner has adapted to our western ways. One would never guess, at first glance, that you are an incurable dude, Mr. Weston."

He shaded his eyes with one hand and gave her an effective smile. "Have I been insulted?"

"Why do you imagine that I am always up to no good? Actually, I have more important matters than
you
to consider, such as sending Uncle Ben and Titus on their way to Billings with the necessary capital."

"Then you'll be happy to know I have just come from the bank." He took a thickly padded envelope from his shirt pocket and handed it to Ben. "I know that you will handle this responsibly. No gambling with the ranch funds, hmm?"

There was a twinkle in his eyes, but Shelby would not acknowledge the humor. She retreated into the house, letting the screen door bang for emphasis.

Ben looked at the Englishman and shrugged. "I thought it was a funny thing to say, myself. Don't pay Shel any mind, Geoff. She's madder at herself than anyone, but it's easier to take it out on you." He studied the envelope for a moment. "This is a fine gesture on your part; I truly appreciate it, and my niece does, too, even if she won't admit it. Don't let her get under your skin while we're gone. You know, she'd like to."

"She wants her ranch back," Geoff agreed laconically.

"Shel can be ornery when she sets her mind to it. If she misbehaves too much I wouldn't blame you if you put her over your knee and give her a good whippin'. Might do her good."

He arched a brow. "An interesting scenario."

"Yeah..." Ben happened to glance over toward the door. On the other side of the screen, Shelby was standing in the shadows, glaring at her uncle. Elaborately, she mouthed one word:
Traitor!

* * *

The next morning at sunrise, Shelby made a great show of slaving over breakfast. She juggled pots and pans, stirring oatmeal, frying eggs, and browning French toast, so that when Geoff appeared early and attempted to chat with her, she was able to appear too busy to respond. She reflected that it had been easier to avoid him when Ben and Titus were there because they kept him occupied at meals and during evenings in front of the fire. They told stories, played gin rummy or checkers, or lured the newcomer outside for a walk and a smoke in the moonlight.

Shelby hadn't been much fun these past three days, but there was certainly a fire in her eyes that told Geoff she was far from beaten. He was tenacious himself, although his personal style was different from Shelby's. Geoff bided his time, drawing on a reserve of patience that had been untapped in London, where his routine was so predictable. Dealing with Shelby Matthews required a new sort of forbearance; she challenged his wits at every turn, and he had to remain ever alert. Shelby was vexing, stimulating, alluring, challenging... and even rude. Now, however, as he poured milk into his strong tea and watched her push a lock of hair off her brow with one hand and flip the French toast with the other, Geoff reminded himself that he was never bored in her presence. No one, save Charles Lipton-Lyons, could guess how much that meant.

Shelby herself imagined that he longed for a tranquil, sweet influence from the woman of the house. Englishwomen were elegant and well-mannered, after all.

"Breakfast smells wonderful," Geoff said now, hungrier for conversation than food.

"Good." Brandishing the frying pan, Shelby shook the French toast from side to side. "I can't talk when I'm cooking."

Every so often her appeal struck him with tremendous force, and this was one of those moments. She was clutching a spatula, one hand on her hip, garbed in her usual high-necked blouse and split skirt, and there was an almost whimsical elegance about her just then. Her lush hair was coming unpinned, there was a streak of egg yolk on her blue gingham apron, and her beautiful face was flushed.

Shelby felt Geoff's reaction to her, for his thoughts had a heat all their own. Spatula in midair, she guilelessly returned his gaze.

"What's burnin'?" Cal called as he came through the front door, followed by Lucius and Marsh.

Shelby crashed back down to earth, yanking the pan from the fire and plucking out the smoking pieces of French toast. Angry and confused, she glared at Geoff. "I have
told
you not to bother me when I'm cooking!"

The only reaction he betrayed was a slight elevation of his eyebrows. Something snapped inside him, but he was determined not to let her know. Instead, amidst the hired hands' wide-eyed silence, he got up and walked over to the fancy stove.

"Clearly, you are in need of help and fortunately I am here to assist you."

Shelby had to admire his style. "Lucky me," she murmured with a grudging smile.

From the table Marsh whooped, "Yup!"

* * *

Shelby also made a show of being an able businesswoman. This was a role she could play with real skill if she chose, but she had rarely been so inclined since arriving at the Sunshine Ranch. With Geoffrey Weston as her audience, however, she now took a seat at her desk after breakfast.

"Running a ranch is a complicated business," she remarked when he paused behind her chair. She opened the heavy ledger, shuffled a stack of bills and receipts, and took pen in hand.

"I know a bit about such matters, having an estate of my own in England," he replied. "I must confess that I have a manager as well, but I've made a point of learning what goes on. You and I should sit down together soon so that you can acquaint me with the books."

"It will be difficult to find the time, I'm afraid. There's so much to do."

"Has anyone told you that you haven't the manners God gave a cat?" Geoff inquired in a conversational tone.

"No! My friends maintain that I am exceptionally charming and kind." She bent over the sheaf of accounts. "I'm afraid that I have a considerable amount of
work
to do, if you'll excuse me..."

He left her without another word, and Shelby smiled to herself, pleased overall with the morning's progress. He would go off to Cody again, and she was certain that very soon he would realize that it would be infinitely better to stay in town than way out here on a ranch where he was shunned and insulted and made to feel inept at every turn.

The morning was opening like the wildflowers on the hillsides. After scarcely a half hour of daydreaming over the bills, Shelby couldn't bear another moment. Relieved of the pressure to keep up appearances, she happily went off to put on her riding boots and a short Eton jacket.