Texas treasure, p.31
Texas Treasure, page 31
part #1 of A Lady and the Cowboy Romance Series
When he got back to town, Vance was very careful to circle around and come in from the opposite side, in case some nosy old lady was watching. It was late and the town was dark. At the livery, Ol’ Zeke was still snoring in the loft as he had been when Vance left. As he stole silently into his room, he permitted himself a smile. It was perfect. No one could possibly know. And now he had a new plan. This one was foolproof. In a few short weeks, perhaps only days, the gold would be his, and he would be heading east. Home.
In the next room, Rita struck a match to check the time. He had been gone quite a while, she noted, and had been sneaking back in the same way he had sneaked out. She idly wondered why, but she did not waste time puzzling about it. Sooner or later she would know why. She always knew everything, sooner or later.
Priscilla had spent a restless night, trying to decide what to do about Dusty. It seemed that she really had no problem. After all, she loved him and now she knew that he loved her. Nothing could be simpler, except for the fact that he could not or would not believe she loved him. Priscilla would never forget the look of outrage on his face when she had tried to get him to propose. Obviously, all the tactics she had used previously on men would be inappropriate. She needed a new approach, but the more she considered, the more muddled she became. What she needed was a change of scenery, something to get her mind off herself, clear out the cobwebs. Since it was Saturday, she decided to go for a long ride. Alone.
Dusty had made himself scarce ever since their encounter by the river the day before, and she saw no sign of him as she saddled Lady and rode out. Leaving word that she would be gone a while, she rode aimlessly, enjoying the view and the changing scenery. Before she was even aware of the direction she had taken, Priscilla realized that she was almost halfway to Hazel Rogers’s house. Hazel would be delighted at a visit, and Priscilla decided she would enjoy talking to someone totally unrelated to her problem with Dusty.
Hazel was delighted and insisted that Priscilla eat with her and her children, since her husband had not yet returned from his trip. It was early afternoon and Priscilla was preparing to leave, when they heard the lone horseman approach. Hazel thought at first her husband had returned, but her children came rushing in, wide-eyed, to announce that the sheriff had come to call. Priscilla felt a cold chill as she watched Hazel’s reaction to that announcement. Obviously shaken and expecting to hear that her husband had gotten himself into some serious difficulty, she braced herself and went out to meet Sheriff Winslow.
“Afternoon, Sheriff. Light an’ set,” she called.
“Afternoon, Miz Rogers,” he replied. “Don’t mind if I do.”
He tried to appear casual, but Priscilla could plainly see that he brought bad news. Hazel sent the children outside, and when they were all seated, Sheriff Winslow began.
“Miz Rogers, I sure hate to have to tell you this, ma’am, but”—he paused, groping for words—”this mornin’ some cowboys found your husband on the road between here an’ town. Looks like he fell off his horse somehow an’...”
“He’s dead?” Hazel asked, amazingly calm.
“Yes, ma’am, I’m sorry to say.”
Hazel seemed almost relieved to find out he was dead instead of in jail, as she had feared. She put a shaky hand to her forehead, as if trying to get a grip on her thoughts. Then she remembered something. “Did you search him, Sheriff? He just got back from selling some cattle. He should have had a great deal of money.”
Sheriff Winslow shifted uneasily in his chair. “He didn’t have no money on him, ma’am.”
For the first time Hazel showed strong emotion. “He must have been robbed, then! Someone must have killed him and robbed him!”
“No, ma’am, you see, before he started home last night, he got in a poker game at the*Yellow Rose and lost every dime he had. I got dozens of witnesses to that. They also said he’d been drinkin’ an’ I guess that’s what caused him the accident.”
Hazel’s face was white. “Thank you, Sheriff. You have been very kind.” She rose suddenly, went into her bedroom, and closed the door.
“I shore am glad you’re here, ma’am,” he said to Priscilla. “You think I ought to send over some other womenfolks?”
“Oh, yes,” said Priscilla. “Could you get word to the Steeles? Tell them I’ll be staying here. I’m sure Mrs. Wilson will want to come soon, also.”
“I sure will, ma’am.”
After the sheriff left, Priscilla went in to comfort Hazel. She mumbled a few consoling phrases to the weeping woman before Hazel looked up and said, “Please, Priscilla, don’t make it worse! I feel like such a hypocrite. My husband is dead and all I can think of is what is going to become of us?”
“What do you mean?”
“That money John lost in the poker game was all we had. Oh, there might be a little left at the bank, enough to last a few weeks or months, but nothing else.”
“You still have the ranch,” Priscilla said.
“I can’t run it alone, and I certainly can’t pay any hands, now. I might round up a few hundred head of cattle to sell, but I couldn’t even afford to feed the cowboys while they do it. I’m not even sure I can afford a funeral.” Hazel began to weep again.
“Do you have any family?” Priscilla asked.
“Some cousins, back in Virginia, but I could never... Even if I could, they’re poor people. They could never afford to take us in.” She looked tragically out the window where her children played carelessly in the yard. “I’ll have to sell the ranch, of course,” she said half to herself, planning out loud. “But that might take months...”
Priscilla felt as if her blood had turned to fire. “You’ll sell the ranch?” she asked eagerly.
“Of course,” said Hazel, getting hold of herself. “Hazel, if I... I mean, I think I know someone who might want to buy the ranch.”
“Who?”
“Someone from Philadelphia,” she said vaguely. “Would you sell, right away, for a fair price?”
Hazel’s eyes lit up with hope. “Oh, yes! I don’t have any idea what a fair price would be, though.”
“Neither do I,” Priscilla admitted, “but I... this person has a lot of money, so that doesn’t matter. I’m sure George Wilson could handle the sale for you. He would make sure you were treated fairly.”
“Oh, yes! Oh, Priscilla, do you know what that would mean? I could go to Richmond, open a shop like I used to have. I’d never have to depend on anyone’s charity again.” The sound of children’s laughter suddenly sobered her. “I must tell the children about their father,” she said. “Would you call them in?”
Chapter Fourteen
Hazel insisted on a simple funeral the next day and asked only a few close friends to sit with her afterward. Priscilla managed to catch George Wilson alone in the Rogers’ ranch yard.
“George, could I meet you at your office tomorrow afternoon after school? I have some business to discuss with you,” she told him.
George smiled indulgently. He could not imagine what business the schoolteacher would have. “Why not just discuss it at home?” he asked.
Priscilla’s serious look baffled him. “I’d rather not be overheard and”—she looked all around—”please don’t tell anyone about our meeting, even Stella. Especially Stella.”
“You may trust my discretion, Miss Bedford.” He bowed, again amused by her seriousness.
Priscilla was afraid she might not get away that afternoon. She had told Stella she was going riding, but Dusty spotted her. He always seemed to be skulking around the ranch yard nowadays, and Priscilla could not decide if it was so he could avoid her or spy on her. Today he was apparently spying, and he was curious because she was wearing her riding habit. Usually, she wore old clothes when she went riding for amusement.
“Where you goin’ all dressed up like that?” he asked suspiciously as she saddled Lady.
“For a ride,” she answered curtly. Since he had confessed his love to her but failed to stake any claims, Priscilla found his proprietary attitude a little ridiculous.
“Where to?” he insisted, knowing how foolish he must sound but unable to help himself.
She glared at him. “To town, if you must know. I have an errand.”
He was not satisfied. “Why don’t you get somebody to fetch you in a wagon?”
“Because I want to go alone!” she snapped. And I don’t want everyone to know my business, she added mentally, especially you.
“Ladies don’t ride to town alone,” he announced.
So that was what was bothering him, she thought.
“An’ they particularly don’t ride into town on horseback.”
“Well, this lady does,” she replied, mounting herself. She spread her skirts demurely. Ever since that first impulsive ride on Lady, she had always been careful to ride sidesaddle when anyone could see her. “Good day, Mr. Rhoades.” She forced him to give way to her as she rode out of the barn, leaving him fuming at her rebellion. On the way to town, she recalled what she had said to him about men having so much more freedom than women. Sadly, it was true.
As she rode down the main street of Rainbow to George Wilson’s office, Priscilla began to feel uneasy. Perhaps people would think she was terribly brazen, but as she looked around, she felt somewhat relieved. The street was nearly deserted. She stopped in front of George’s office and a sudden realization hit her. It would be most unladylike to jump off her horse in the middle of Main ! Street. She waited a moment to see if George would see her and come to her rescue, but he did not. Then she heard footsteps on the boardwalk and looked up. A familiar face smiled in recognition, j “Mr. Vance, how fortunate. Could I prevail upon you I to help me down?” she asked.
Jason Vance stopped a moment, undecided, and then I glancing around to make sure no one was near, he j swiftly stepped over and lifted her down from her horse.
“Oh, thank you, sir,” she smiled. “I’m afraid I have already scandalized the town by riding in unescorted. It would never do to fall flat on my face in the street, too!”
“Glad to be of service, ma’am,” he smiled back. She was prettier than he remembered, her voice sweeter.
“I’m surprised to see you still here,” she added, “Somehow I imagined you would not be in Rainbow very long.”
“My business here took longer than I expected,” he explained as they stepped up on the boardwalk to Wilson’s office. “And I was offered a job, so I have stayed.”
She looked at his black frock coat. “You are not a cowboy,” she observed.
“No, I, ah”—she saw his cool reserve crack, just a bit, as if it pained him to admit it—“I’m working at the Yellow Rose. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for an appointment,” he ended abruptly, and, tipping his hat, he brushed past her without looking back.
Priscilla stood for a moment, puzzling. She had never been in a saloon and she could not imagine what sort of work a man like Vance would do there. Obviously, he had education and breeding. She would ask Stella later, when she thought of it. George had finally seen her and had come to escort her in.
“Well, young lady, how may I be of service to you?” George smiled when they were seated in his office.
Priscilla might have been irritated at his condescending attitude except that she knew she held the high card. She smiled sweetly back at him. “I have a business transaction that I would like you to handle for me.”
“I would be delighted,” he said.
“On one condition only, however,” she warned. “You must keep this entire matter confidential. No one— absolutely no one—must find out. If you don’t give me your word on that, I shall go to San Antonio to find another lawyer.”
Intrigued, George became as serious as she. “Of course, you have my word.”
Reaching into the canvas bag she carried, she pulled out a leather wallet containing various important-looking papers.
“I want to purchase the Rogers’ ranch,” she said, searching through the papers for the one she wanted. “Here is a draft from a bank in Philadelphia. I hope it will be adequate.”
Stunned speechless, George took the draft. For a moment he stared at it, then looked at her, then back at the draft. “More than adequate. Far more. Priscilla, you’re rich!”
She shrugged. “Well-to-do, perhaps. Hardly rich.”
He shook his head. “Stella told me...” he muttered.
“It’s difficult to fool Stella, but if I fooled you, perhaps I managed to fool everyone else.”
“I realize it’s none of my business, but why...?”
“Why did I pretend to be poor? It wasn’t that I wanted to. You’ll probably think me silly. Perhaps I am. It’s just that I wanted some excitement in my life. I wanted to go west. My father was quite ill for a long time before he died. I used to read to him to pass the time, and all he wanted to hear about was the West. I must have read everything in print on the subject, dime novels, scholarly tomes, everything. Then I saw Mr. Steele’s advertisement. It seemed the perfect opportunity to go west and look around. If I didn’t like it, I could always go back home.” She smiled. “But I do like it, and now I want to stay.”
George shook his head again. “You want to be a rancher?” he asked in disbelief. “Have you spoken to Hazel about this?”
“Yes. Poor Hazel is desperate, penniless. She must sell quickly. She wants to return to Virginia—that’s where she’s from—and open a sewing shop. It’s been a dream of hers for a long time. But,” she added quickly, “she doesn’t know that I will be the one to buy the ranch. I told her I knew someone from Philadelphia whom I thought would buy it, that you would set a fair price and handle the sale for her.”
“I will, certainly, but why all the secrecy?”
“I don’t want Hazel to think it’s an act of charity on my part and... well, I have other reasons for not wanting anyone else to know. I’ll sign the power of attorney giving you the right to act in my behalf. That way, my name need not come up.”
“Then no one else knows about this?”
“No one except you and me,” she assured him.
George was thoughtful. “I know at least one other person who would be interested in the sale of the Old Rhoades property.”
“He is the reason I don’t want my name mentioned,” Priscilla said simply.
“He’ll be angry,” he warned.
Priscilla could not help a smile. “He has been angry since the moment we met, as you well know.”
George was still amazed, still trying to make sense of it all. “Do you know he’s in love with you?”
Priscilla nodded. How well she knew that! “But he still intends to leave here as soon as possible, and alone.”
George scowled. “Do you think that by buying the ranch you can keep him here?”
“Oh, no! I know that would be the one thing certain to drive him away forever. No, I’ll work out my problems with Dusty Rhoades as best I can, if I can”—she laughed self-consciously—“and then, and only then will I tell him about the ranch. That’s why it must be a secret.”
“I’ll do it, even though Stella will kill me when she does find out.” They both laughed. “Now we must go to the bank and take care of this draft. Benson owes me some favors, so I think we can count on his discretion. You should probably threaten to take your money to San Antone, though, just in case.”
Rita was waiting in her doorway at the top of the stairs when Vance got back to the saloon.
“A real gentleman, ain’t you?” she asked.
“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Jordan,” he said. Usually she was amused when he called her “Mrs. Jordan,” but not now.
“I seen you helpin’ that lady off her horse.” Rita said the word “lady” as if it were a curse.
“She needed some assistance. I was glad to oblige,” Vance told her blandly.
“I’ll just bet! She knew you, though. She talked to you, smiled like you was old friends. Who is she?” Rita demanded.
Could Rita be jealous? It seemed unlikely, but Vance enjoyed seeing her so unsure of herself. “Oh, just a lady friend of mine.” He put emphasis on “lady” and Rita’s eyes flamed.
“Her name, Vance. Her name.”
Vance demurred. “Priscilla Bedford. She’s...”
“The schoolteacher!” Rita said triumphantly. Her face changed instantly and the anger or jealousy was gone. “So that’s her. She’s not so much,” Rita said half to herself.
Vance hated to see his advantage slip away so quickly, so he tried to bring it back. “Oh, she’s a great deal, I believe.”
Rita’s eyes blazed again. “That skinny, prissy, little... nothing! I’ll bet she sleeps with all her clothes on. She wouldn’t know the first thing to do in bed with a man. She’d prob’ly scream if one so much as touched her,” Rita predicted vehemently.
“She’s not skinny at all,” said Vance. “I was in a better position to observe that than you, and I doubt if Priscilla ever screamed at anything in her life.” Rita flared again when he used Priscilla’s first name. “As for the other, well, I imagine that, with the right man, our little schoolteacher would be a very willing pupil.”
Rita made a strangled sound in her throat and moved as if to strike Vance. Then suddenly she checked herself and smiled smugly. “You’ll never be that man, Vance.”
Her words stung, far more than she had even intended, and it took all his self-control not to slap the smirk off her lovely face. Then his desire to wound her as she had wounded him brought forth a dim and distant memory. “No,” he replied brutally, “but Dusty Rhoades might.” Instantly, he knew that he had drawn blood. Rita was on him, tooth and claw, and only his quick reaction and superior strength saved him from being savaged by her nails. He shoved her violently, and she staggered back through the open door into her room. Turning in disgust, he would have left her then, except that her voice, shrill with anger, called after him, questioning his manhood in words he had never heard a woman use before. Using every ounce of self-control he possessed, Vance tried to stifle the unreasoning rage that welled up inside of him but failed. With a primitive roar, he lunged for her, instinctively slamming the door shut behind him.
