Wicked Wyoming Nights Read online

  “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.

  “That’s what every squatter says, but the soil is never turned and the cattle keep disappearing.”

  “We’re from Kansas,” Eliza said, as though that alone would clear them of suspicion. “Uncle would never steal, even if we were starving.”

  “I’d like to believe you, but I can’t take the chance on seeing my profits disappear into another man’s pockets,” Cord said in a completely different voice from the one he’d used for her uncle.

  “All you ranchers are greedy, thieving liars,” roared Ira as waves of remembrance welled up within him. “You ride over farms destroying crops and bringing disease to kill our livestock and families.”

  “Move on and I won’t do either,” Cord responded. “Sturgis.” The young man named stepped forward hesitantly. “Put everything that’s not ruined back in the wagon. Then take these people into town and have Ed Baylis replace the rest. I’ll let you know how many months it’ll take you to pay for this foolishness when I see the bill.”

  “But sir?” gulped Royce in shocked protest.

  “I hope you’re not going to try to excuse your conduct toward this young lady.” Cord’s eyes and voice were set in an uncompromising scowl.

  “No, sir.” The chastened young men began their dispiriting task.

  “There are several places you can homestead within easy riding distance of town,” Cord said, turning to Ira.

  “I’ll not be told where I can live.”

  “Suit yourself, but next time you may not be so lucky.” Ira looked mulish. “The other ranchers don’t treat you this well. The big ones won’t, and the small ones can’t afford it. Take my advice, for your niece’s sake if not your own, and stay away from grazing land.”

  “Does the sheriff of Buffalo let you ranchers make your own rules?”

  Cord’s eyebrows came together in a forbidding frown.” He can’t protect every settler all the time, if that’s what you mean.” It wasn’t, but it answered just as well.

  “Let’s go, Uncle. Can’t you see it’s no use?”

  Ira glared uncertainly at Cord as the boys finished reloading the wagon.

  “I have other hands just as loyal and considerably more experienced,” Cord informed him, quite aware of what the furious little man was thinking. “I don’t give a second warnin
g.”

  “You haven’t heard the last of me,” Ira said sullenly.

  “Uncle, don’t,” entreated Eliza.

  “Suit yourself” Cord replied nonchalantly, turning to his men. “Are you done?”

  “Almost.”

  “Then hitch up the team. We don’t want to slow their departure. I haven’t asked your name,” he said, turning back to Eliza. “I’m Cord Stedman, owner of the Matador Ranch.”

  “To hell with you and your ranch,” roared Ira. Eliza was too mortified by her uncle’s outburst to speak.

  “You’ll be a welcome addition to the female population of Buffalo,” Cord added.

  “Don’t get any notions about my niece. Remember, she bears my name.”

  “I was never one to hold a child responsible for somebody else’s name,” Cord stated with excruciating directness. He mounted easily and turned his horse away from the gathering. “I want to see you boys before dinner. And don’t forget to bring the bill.”

  “Yes, sir,” they answered in chorus. Cord chucked to his horse and cantered away.

  “I’m going to kill that man,” Ira vowed half to himself. “I swear it on Sarah’s grave.”

  “You’d never live to tell of it,” challenged Royce with a deadly calm that belied his eighteen years. Ira was taken aback; there was no doubt Royce meant what he said. The look on Sturgis’s face said the same.

  “He can’t be all bad, Uncle. He did stop them from burning our books. And he is going to replace everything.”

  Eliza continued to watch her uncle anxiously. His oath had filled her with uneasiness. His wife and son were the only things he held sacred, and there was a strange look in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

  It was easy to find Baylis’s Dry Goods Store, but it was a little harder to make the irascible owner understand their errand, what with the boys not wanting to reveal what they had done to cause Stedman to take such an unprecedented step and Ira Smallwood refusing to talk at all. However, it wasn’t long before Ed Baylis had the whole story, and it didn’t please him one bit.

  “With all this scaring and murdering of anybody who gets in your way, you Boys are becoming a real aggravation to decent folks,” Ed said irritably.

  “We never murdered anybody,” insisted Sturgis. “Mr. Stedman would have our hides if we even shot one of ’em by accident.”

  “I don’t know why I have anything to do with you,” Ed grumbled, “but a man’s got to make a living, and Cord Stedman does pay his bills on time. Which is more than I can say for most of the law-abiding citizens in this town,” he added bitterly. “Are you boys positive he said to replace everything? That’s going to take a right smart piece of change.”

  “Everything,” Royce confirmed, trying not to think of such a large sum of money. “You’re to consult the young lady if you have any questions, but Mr. Stedman don’t want any arguments over anything.” Baylis whistled through his teeth, and the sound apparently made the boys so uncomfortable they disappeared after telling him they’d come back to pick up the bill. Shortly after that, Ira struck up a conversation with a complete stranger and left Eliza to finish up by herself.

  “She knows more about these things than I do,” Ira had said with total unconcern, but Eliza was too ill at ease to keep her mind on shopping until Ed’s wife volunteered to help her.

  “There’s no point in sparing a rancher’s pockets,” Ella declared, insisting Eliza choose the best of everything. “They own just about the whole state, and a more selfish passel of men you’d be hard pressed to find. Cord Stedman just may be the best of the lot, but that isn’t saying much.”

  “I was scared of him at first,” Eliza ventured timidly, “but he was really quite nice.”

  “There’s no need I ever heard tell of for a woman to be scared of Cord Stedman, but he doesn’t treat men the same, and he hates homesteaders with a passion. He might not have burned you out, but he’s done that and worse to others.” After that alarming speech, Eliza dared not ask Ella to tell her anything about the man who had so unexpectedly sparked her interest, but instead directed her attention to the wholely pleasant task of filling her newly covered wagon with shiny pots and cups and plates without chips.

  “What about your clothes?” Ella asked after several crates of crockery had been settled into the wagon.

  “They didn’t get hurt. Just a little dirty.”

  “Then let him pay for a new dress. Or at least a length of cloth,” Ella urged, moving to where several bolts of bright material were laid out for easy inspection. That’ll teach him not to bully helpless women.” Eliza looked over the bolts with growing interest. “A girl can never have too many dresses, even out here,” Ella hinted encouragingly. But Eliza lost interest in the material when her eyes came to rest on a gown of dark blue satin trimmed with white lace. “Do you like it?” Ella asked unnecessarily when Eliza’s whole face lit up.

  “It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen,” Eliza told her, enthralled.

  Then take it.”

  “Oh, no, I couldn’t.”

  “Yes, you can. You deserve it.”

  “No, I don’t. I don’t have anything half as pretty. I couldn’t possibly let Mr. Stedman pay for it.”

  “Then I’ll give it to you.”

  “But why?” she asked in wonderment.

  “Because there’s nobody around here who’ll look half as good in it. Besides, it’s been here for six months and I’m sick of looking at it.”

  “But I don’t have anywhere to wear a dress that fine.”

  “You’ll find someplace,” Ella assured her, closing the discussion. Eliza resisted the temptation to indulge in day-dreams of being admired by everyone who saw her in the dress, and concentrated on finishing her purchases so she would be ready when her uncle returned, but Ira didn’t reappear at the appointed time, and the steady flow of strangers entering the store, especially the men who stared at her with open curiosity, made Eliza terribly self-conscious. Ella took compassion on Eliza and carried her off to her own house for a bite of lunch. There she soon coaxed her whole history out of her.

  “I’m not used to talking so much,” Eliza apologized.

  “You haven’t said a word I haven’t had to pry out of you.

  “Uncle doesn’t like it when I chatter.”

  “I never met any girl less given to chattering. I suppose it comes from being by yourself so much.”

  “It does get lonely sometimes. I’ve wanted to live in a town for such a long time, but now that uncle intends to open a saloon, I’m not sure I want to anymore.”

  “You’ll get used to people around here in no time. We’re just plain folks. We don’t get up too much out of the way. Certainly not like those painted hussies at Lavinia’s,” she added inconsequentially. “What do you plan to do with yourself?”

  “Uncle Ira says I’m to help him in the saloon, but I’d rather teach school.”

  “I shouldn’t think you’d like working in a saloon very much. You’re not the type. But whatever would you want to teach school for?”

  “I like children, though I must admit I haven’t been around them very much.”

  “That probably accounts for it,” decided Ella.

  “I know I would like teaching. Aunt Sarah used to teach me, and it was the thing I looked forward to most each day. I’ve read all of her books.” Her enthusiasm waned. “Some got lost, and we had to sell a few of the others.”

  “We don’t have a schoolhouse or a teacher anymore,” Ella informed her. “The schoolhouse burned down last winter after some shiftless cowboys spent the night there. Then they had those killings over Newcastle way, and the schoolteacher packed her bags and skedaddled back to Ohio.”

  She broke off, distracted by a strident voice in the front hall; then before either of them could move, Ira pushed his way into the parlor.

  “I might have known I’d find you sitting about doing nothing,” he barked, glaring angrily at his niece.

&nb
sp; “Don’t you come barging into my house and shouting at my visitors,” Ella challenged, firing up instantly. “Your niece worked herself silly while you were wetting your whiskers in some saloon.” No female had ever talked back to Ira, but there was something about Ella’s heaving bosom and the martial light in her eyes that persuaded Ira this was not the time to do battle for his male prerogatives.

  “Come on,” he said curtly to Eliza. “I’ve found us a place to settle.”

  “You come back whenever you get the chance, child,” Ella offered. “Maybe something will come of your teaching. We certainly could use a schoolmistress around here.”

  “You back to that school nonsense again?” her uncle asked as they drove out of town.

  “You know I’ve always wanted to teach.”

  “Put that idea out of your head for good. You’ll be too busy in the saloon to have time to worry about teaching anybody’s snotty-nosed brats.”

  “But we don’t own a saloon.”

  “We do now. Well, almost,” he corrected himself. “I haven’t been wasting my time regardless of what that old hellcat thinks. I’ve found us a place to live close to town and a man who’s willing to take me on as a partner.”

  “What’s it like?”

  “It’s not as large as I’d like, but it’s got a nice big room and a bar that goes the whole length.”

  “I don’t mean the saloon, I mean the land. Do we have a well, or is there a stream nearby? How long will we have to live in the wagon?”

  “There’s already a well and a house on it,” her uncle replied, pleased with himself.

  “Can we move in right away?” she asked hopefully.

  “Sure. Croley says it was abandoned last week and nobody’s moved to claim it yet.”

  “Is there something wrong with it?” she asked with dwindling enthusiasm.

  “Of course not. There’s just so much land around here nobody has to take seconds.”

  Eliza wondered why they always had to be the ones to take seconds. The house was no more than a dilapidated cabin, and she knew from experience her uncle wouldn’t do anything to make it more comfortable until winter. The land didn’t appear to be very fertile and the outbuildings consisted of a lean-to and a sagging chicken coop. There wasn’t a cooking stove either, but she tried to hide her disappointment and think of how nice it would be not to have to live in the wagon. After all, she sighed, they might not even be here come winter.