Chapter 21
Kate made a stew from a chicken Clint had killed. There had been precious little food in the ranch house.
But she’d found onions, potatoes, and salt. She would bring over supplies tomorrow as well as some clothes for Shea Randall. The poor girl apparently lost everything in the mountains. It was a miracle she’d survived.
Kate’s father had asked her to try to find out anything she could about Shea Randall and the weeks she’d been missing.
It was unfathomable to him that a woman could survive that long alone, but Kate had always had a streak of self-sufficiency, and Shea struck her as the same.
There were certainly numerous deserted cabins along the creek and enough wild raspberries for a person to survive a long time.
She had only admiration for the grit it had taken an Easterner to come this far and then to keep going. She had liked Shea Randall on sight, had liked her determination and her obvious concern for a father she hadn’t known. Her own father, Kate thought, was just being suspicious.
She turned around from the pot as Shea Randall entered the room. She looked pale and tired, her eyes haunted, and sympathy surged through Kate.
“How is he?”
“He woke for a few moments and then went back to sleep.”
“Did he remember anything about the shooting?”
Shea shook her head.
Kate hesitated, not wanting to intrude. “You’ve had a hard time.”
Shea smiled wanly. “It wasn’t what I expected when I left Boston.”
“But now that you’re here?”
“The land is beautiful,” Shea said.
Kate had already set the table, and now she dished out two plates of food and filled glasses with water.
Shea sank down gratefully on a chair. She should be starved, but uncertainty curbed her hunger. “Mr. Edwards?”
“Clint, you mean?” Kate said. “He went to check in with Nate, make sure everyone has come in. With all the lawlessness …”
Shea took a bite of food and found it tasty, but her questions were building, and there were so few people she could ask.
“I know so little about … my father.”
Kate smiled. “Everyone likes him. There’s hardly anyone that he hasn’t helped.”
Shea sighed. “Why do you think someone shot him?”
Kate’s smile disappeared. “No one knows. My father has tried to talk to Mr. Randall, but he says he doesn’t know anyone who has a grudge.”
Relief flooded Shea. At least no one knew about Rafe. Not yet. But why hadn’t her father said anything about him? Did her father even realize who was behind the robberies?
Kate looked at her sympathetically. “You must be very tired. Would you like me to stay tonight?”
Shea shook her head. “You’ve done enough. I’m ever so grateful. But I can manage.”
“I’ll bring you some clothes tomorrow. And a ham.”
Shea swallowed. She knew now how Clint felt, being wrapped in the protective warmth of people she couldn’t confide in. “Thank you,” she said simply.
“You’ll like it here,” Kate said impulsively. “It’s usually very peaceful. And Papa will catch the people who shot Mr.… your father.”
“I heard there was a man staying here, that he disappeared when my father was shot. Can you tell me anything about him?”
“Just that he came here several weeks ago. He didn’t say much, or attend the socials. I know Clint didn’t care for him, nor my father.”
“Couldn’t he have shot my father?”
Kate nodded. “But there have been so many other instances lately … That’s why Clint thinks he should stick around here.”
The way Kate said Clint’s name made Shea smile. “You like him, don’t you?”
Kate blushed, the matter-of-fact competence disappearing. “I didn’t know it showed.”
“Just a little,” Shea said.
Kate’s smile faded. “I wish it didn’t,” she said. “He says he has tumbleweeds for feet, that he’ll never settle down.”
Shea reached out with her hand and touched her. “Don’t believe him,” she said. “Fight for him.”
She knew she shouldn’t say that. Clint had his reasons, but she’d also seen how he looked at Kate. With pleasure, then wariness. Like Rafe’s wariness.
Shea wondered whether she had any right to interfere, but something had made her say the words. Fight for him. Because she couldn’t fight for Rafe?
Was he already gone? Had he lied about leaving?
Why else was Clint still here?
And, dear God, there was a posse forming.
She shivered, and Kate looked worried. “Perhaps we should get the doctor back here to look at you.”
“I’m just tired,” she said, and Kate looked immediately apologetic.
“Of course you are,” she said. “But are you sure I can’t stay and help? I don’t like leaving you alone.”
“I won’t be alone. Mr. Edwards said he’ll be around, and several of the remaining hands. I’ll sleep in my father’s room.” She was careful to avoid naming Clint, afraid of the familiarity of his name on her tongue.
Kate nodded, rising. “I’ll be over in the morning with some clothes. Send for me if you need anything before then.”
Shea looked at her gratefully. “I’ll go talk to Mr. Edwards a moment. She hurried over to the bunkhouse, hesitating at the door, uncertain whether she should enter. She knocked, and Nate came to the door.
“How’s Mr. Randall, miss?” he said.
“Conscious on and off,” she said. “He still doesn’t remember anything.”
“I guess that makes you the boss now,” he said.
Shea hesitated. “I understand a lot of men have left. Thank you for staying.”
Nate shrugged. “I’ve been here a lot longer than most. Mr. Randall’s always been real fair.”
“That’s what I keep hearing,” she said, wanting to probe a little more, but there was greater urgency in talking to Clint. “Can you tell me where Mr. Edwards is?”
“The barn, ma’am. Taking care of the horses.”
“Thank you,” she said, and turned away.
“Miss Randall?”
She turned back. “Anything I can do to help,” he said, “just let me know. I’m sorry you came here when there’s so much trouble. Damn thing, what’s happening. The Circle R was … is a real nice spread.”
Before the robberies. Before Rafe Tyler.
“How bad is it?” she said.
“I guess you have a right to know. We’re losing cattle every day because we don’t have enough men to keep them out of the canyons where there’s not enough grass to keep them alive.
It doesn’t look like we’ll have enough men to take them to market this fall, and even if we did, there won’t be enough to meet the note.
Mr. Randall’s lost three monthly payrolls; none of the men have been paid in four months.
Can’t blame them for leaving, ’specially when the prospects ain’t very good. ”
Shea nodded. “Thank you for being so honest.”
“You need to know in case …”
In case her father didn’t make it. And then Rafe Tyler would win. He would have destroyed everything Jack Randall had built.
Don’t think about it.
But she couldn’t help thinking about it as she walked to the barn and opened it. Clint turned around from the horse he was saddling and looked at her warily as she closed the door. They were alone.
“He’s still up there, isn’t he?” she asked.
Clint’s jaw set stubbornly, and he said nothing.
“Are you going to tell him about the posse?”
“If he’s still there, he’ll find out. Do you give a damn?” His eyes bored into her in the dim light of a lantern.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“What about Randall?”
“Can’t there be some mistake? Perhaps that McClary …” She heard the plea in her own voice, a plea that he agree with her.
“Has Randall said anything about the attack?”
She shook her head.
“He won’t,” Clint said bitterly. “He’ll blame it on Rafe.”
“He doesn’t remember.…”
“Are you sure of that, Miss Randall? Are you really sure?”
Shea wasn’t sure of anything anymore, not even that the world was round or the sky blue or the sun always rose. “No,” she finally answered.
“Rafe can take care of himself,” he said, his voice softening.
“And you?”
He stopped saddling the horse. “What do you mean?”
“Kate.”
Friendliness left his voice. “What about Kate?”
“She’s in love with you.”
“She can’t be.”
Shea just looked at him.
“In any event it’s none of your business,” he said curtly. “Now if you’ll excuse me. I’ll see if she’s ready to go home.” He led the horse out of the stall, and then took a small mare that must belong to Kate out of another. He stopped, turned back. “Thank you for … what you said to Russ Dewayne.”
“I don’t think he believed me.”
Clint gave her a wry smile. “I don’t think so, either, but there’s no way he can disprove it.
” He started to say something more, but then clamped his lips together and led the two horses out the door, leaving her in the barn.
She sat on a bale of hay, feeling very alone and lost, and then she remembered the sketches she’d brought with her. She took them from inside her belt.
The drawing of Abner was there, another of the cub.
One of Rafe with the horse. He had torn away the sketch of the fall and pool, of the mountains drawn from the stump in front of the cabin.
And she realized he hadn’t meant to leave immediately; he had ripped away every geographical landmark she’d captured on paper.
But he’d left alone the sketches of him. And it made her sick inside. I don’t give a damn what you say about me. He’d already given up on a future. Or maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want her to forget, no matter what he said.
And she hadn’t given up. She knew she would never give up. Somehow she would make things right. She didn’t know how, but she had to.
She heard horses ride off and knew that Clint and Kate had gone. She balled the drawings up, took the lantern down, and went outside the barn. Carefully, very carefully, she burned all evidence of Rafe Tyler.
She didn’t need them. She had memorized him in her mind, in her heart. She recalled every expression, every hard line of his face, especially the way it had gentled last night before Clint arrived with his news. That was the picture she held now in her heart.
From a distance lights were visible at the Dewayne ranch. A number of horses were tied to the hitching rail.