“I’m surprised the railroad didn’t put the stage line out of business,” Tiffany remarked.
“Still towns north and south of here that the tracks don’t reach. If you don’t mind, I’m gonna wait out here to keep an eye out for any Warrens. Rather not get in a shoot-out over snatching you out from under them.”
That was an alarming statement, but since he grinned as he said it, Tiffany decided he wasn’t serious and went into the office without him.
She marched up to the counter to send the telegram, but paused when she realized the man she was giving it to might warn her father. Didn’t everyone know everyone else in a small town? So she arranged to have the message, which she didn’t sign, delivered to R.W. at the hotel in Chicago where Rose was staying. How many guests could they have with those initials?
The telegram read, “Change of plans. Give Papa excuse for extended delay. Letter explaining to follow.”
Chapter Nine
TIFFANY SAID NOTHING TO the Callahan brothers about the vehicle they were forcing her to ride in, but she was highly indignant about having to travel anywhere in a freight wagon! The driver’s bench she sat on had no backrest, and no canopy either to protect her from the June sun, which was getting hotter as the day progressed. She had the appalling thought that she might start sweating by the time they reached the ranch or, even worse, get sunburned!
If she knew whether her parasols were in her remaining trunk, she’d ask the brothers to stop so she could take one out, but she hadn’t done the packing so she didn’t know, and she’d be embarrassed if she made them wait while she dug through that trunk and then came up empty-handed. Her fancy bonnet was a fashionable wardrobe accessory and was of little use in protecting her from the sun, so she settled for using her hand to shield her face. It was obvious now why men in the West wore hats with such wide brims. She’d even seen a couple of women in town wearing hats like that.
As Cole drove the wagon and John rode alongside, Tiffany sat stiffly erect as was proper, but her back was already getting sore from the effort. Her mother would cry if she could see the discomfort Tiffany was suffering because of a promise Rose had made. No, actually, Rose would probably just say something encouraging like “You can laugh and tell your grandchildren about this someday.” Tiffany would have scoffed because her grandchildren were going to be proper New Yorkers who would be horrified that she had to endure this. But she heard Rose whispering in reply, “Or a pack of little cowboys who would be horrified that you would even mention it.”
This truly was absurd. She should be at home enjoying the social whirl in New York City with her friends, going to wonderful parties, meeting proper young gentlemen who’d never heard of outlaws, much less Indians! She shouldn’t be here! And for what? Because two neighbors couldn’t get along and be neighborly?
“Any riders come toward us, you drop down in the back and hide,” Cole said.
That was a rude awakening from her miserable thoughts. “Why?” she gasped.
“Could be a Warren.”
She bit her tongue to keep herself from answering immediately. What would Jennifer say? Wouldn’t the housekeeper welcome the opportunity to tell the Warrens that she’d decided to work for the Callahans instead because they’d offered her double the wages? How ignoble, yet that was probably what the real Jennifer would have done if she had gotten the offer. But Jennifer was on her way back East.
While Tiffany didn’t want to risk running into her father or any of her brothers yet, she had to reply the way Jennifer would. “I should let them know I’ve decided to work for your family instead. It’s the honorable thing do to.”
Cole snorted. “Warrens don’t know the meaning of honor, so don’t you worry your pretty head about that. ’Sides, this was our pa’s idea, poking this little thorn in old Frank’s side by luring you away from him, so you let Pa do the gloating when he’s ready to.”
That remark made her realize she couldn’t send Frank Jennifer’s note about deciding to return to Chicago, not if the Callahans intended to let him know Jennifer was with them. It could make him suspicious, might even bring him straight to her, demanding an explanation about why she would lie to him. But she was beginning to wonder if Frank had been honest with Rose in the letters he had written her. It sounded as if the feud had heated up again and was worse than he’d led Rose to believe. The way these Callahans spoke of her family with such derision made her wonder if even a wedding could end the feud. Maybe the Callahans had already called it off and she didn’t need to be here at all!
That was something she needed to know right now. “You said you weren’t friendly with your neighbors, but it sounds more like I’m walking into the middle of a war. Am I?”
Cole chuckled. “No, ma’am. A man can hate his neighbors without killing them.”
So much for a quick excuse to go home. Nor had he mentioned the feud, so she couldn’t ask specifically about that, either, when Jennifer wouldn’t know about it. But she could find out more about his family. The housekeeper would be curious about the people she was working for.
Cole had glanced at her a few times while they were talking, but he finally noticed her difficulty with the sun and added, “Here, change sides with me.” He stopped the wagon and took her hand to help her get around him to the right without losing her balance. “I reckon I can give you some shade.”
As tall as he was, he actually did somewhat block the sun, but he wasn’t done. He also plopped his wide-brimmed hat down on her head, right over her bonnet, which kept it from sliding down over her eyes. She almost laughed at the image of what she must look like. Almost. But the hat did get the sun off her face as soon as she tilted it a little in that direction. She was more than a little grateful for Cole’s thoughtfulness. It made her think a little more kindly of the Callahans, at least this one.
“Thank you,” she said, giving him a smile as he resumed driving the wagon. “By the way, how did you know I was coming to town?”
“Heard it from one of Warrens’ disgruntled employees.”
“But how did you know I’d be there today, when the train is three days early?”
“Didn’t. We had an order to pick up at the depot for our brother.” He gestured to the back of the wagon. Tiffany turned around and saw a couple of crates that looked like the ones she’d seen unloaded from the train. “They let us know to expect it today. We hoped you might be on that train, too, but we didn’t think we’d get this lucky.”
Her father should have been there, though, for her! Tiffany thought. But obviously he didn’t care enough to check on the train’s schedule to find out she’d be arriving early.
She shook off the hurt that caused her and asked, “What sort of household will I be running? How many servants?”
“Two maids. Probably could use more, but they’re hard to come by.”
She was incredulous. Why did they hire a housekeeper when they didn’t have a staff large enough to warrant one? But since they had given her this opportunity to fulfill her promise to her mother to at least meet Hunter Callahan and yet avoid her father, she wasn’t going to point that out.
Instead she said, “Can you tell me a little about your family and where you’re taking me?”
“We’re cattlemen, same as the Warrens. We own the Triple C Ranch, which comprises five hundred acres, and over a thousand head of cattle.”
She was impressed, but wondered aloud, “Is that enough land for that many cows?”
He chuckled. “Course it ain’t, we don’t keep the herds on the ranch. This is open-range country in all directions.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“Free grazing for the herds.”
So the two families obviously weren’t fighting over land, just water, but she hadn’t seen any bodies of water yet. They had taken the north road out of town. Tiffany gazed at the green, grassy fields that flowed on either side of the road and the huge snowcapped mountains in the distance. She’d never seen mountains
that impressive except in paintings and picture books. They passed a forest with a logging camp nestled in the center of it. They passed a New England–style house sitting all by itself, an odd reminder of home. It was built of stone, so there must be a stone quarry nearby. She’d heard that industry was moving into the territory, but with so much open land it didn’t intrude on the beauty of the wilderness.
She had to admit it was pretty country, though she would never admit that to Anna. But Cole still hadn’t said anything about his family or Hunter, in particular, whom she was most interested in.
Hoping to get him to mention her fiancé, she asked next, “How big is your family?”
“I have three brothers. I’m the youngest, Hunter’s the oldest. Morgan, that fool, got gold fever and took off on us last year when yet another gold strike was found over near Butte, one of the bigger mining towns in the territory. Pa had a fit, but Morgan’s stubborn, and he did find some gold, not enough to get rich over, but enough to keep him from coming home.”
“And why does that make him a fool?”
Cole snorted. “We’re cattlemen, and there’s already more miners in Montana than you can count. Hell, copper was discovered on our land this year. Pa figured that might get Morgan back. Told him if he’s going to disgrace us by being a miner, he can do it at home. That hasn’t worked either—yet.”
There was no opening in what he’d just said to question him specifically about Hunter. She’d have to wait until she actually met him to find out what he was like.
Up ahead she saw a large pond—or was it a small lake?—surrounded by meadows of blue and gold flowers. Even a few shade trees were near the lake. This lovely, peaceful setting was the sort of place one might search for to have a picnic.
The road led straight to the little lake and forked to either side of it. The stream that fed it was quite wide and looked too deep to cross right now, probably still swollen from the winter melt. Farther north along the left side of the meandering stream was a long, dark-brownish mass that stirred her curiosity.
“What is that?”
Cole followed her gaze. “The Warrens’ herd. It’s their time of the day.”
“Their time?”
“To bring their cattle to water. Morning for them, afternoon for us. The families decided long ago not to tempt fate by meeting up across the stream at watering time.”
“Why?”
“No point in spurring tempers—or tempting someone to take a shot at the other side. Even one shot fired could cause a stampede. Used to happen a lot.”
She barely heard his answer, her eyes caught by the riders in the stream who were keeping the herd from crossing it. When she realized those riders could be her brothers, that she could be this close to them, her breath quickened. But the cowboys were too far away for her to tell. Then the wagon turned and she lost sight of the herd and the cowboys, but caught sight of a building under construction. It was a ways back from the lake and had no walls yet, just framing. It was going to have an incredible view. . . .
Oh, my, Tiffany thought, this had to be the strip of land under contention that both ranches were claiming as theirs. And that had to be the house the two families had been building for her and Hunter that they’d stopped working on because they couldn’t get along. Just as well, she thought, since she didn’t intend to live in it.
The thought made her uncomfortable. The people here expected her to end their feud. That house would sit empty when she didn’t marry Hunter. In all likelihood, it would probably never be finished. A weight settled on her shoulders. She shook it off in annoyance. It wasn’t her responsibility to bring peace to the area, it really wasn’t!
Before long they turned off the road and were driving up to a large house with a long, covered porch. Two stories high, built of smoothly cut boards, the Callahans’ house wasn’t the little log cabin she had half expected. There was nothing rustic about this house. Well, not on the outside anyway, as long as you didn’t notice the spittoon placed between two chairs at one end of the porch or the mud tracks leading right up to the door.
John dismounted, and after she handed Cole’s hat back to him, she let John help her down from the wagon. The moment her feet were on the ground she said, “I would like to get settled and have a bath before I meet the head of your household. Is there a butler who can—”
“A what?” Cole interrupted as he came around the wagon. “There’s no shortage of rooms. Pa expected more’n four children, so he built the house bigger than it needed to be when he first expanded it. The bedrooms downstairs are taken, but there’s plenty more upstairs. Help yourself to one you find empty. The bath is downstairs, though, next to the kitchen. And you don’t have to go out to the well for water, we’ve got pumps.”
That was more information than Tiffany needed to hear. The part about the bath had her groaning to herself. It was going to be intolerable if everyone in the household used the same bath. Almost too intolerable. Perhaps her charade wasn’t such a good idea after all.
Cole suddenly looked over her head and yelled, “Could use some help here, Hunter.”
“Hell no.” Laughter rumbled behind her. “It wasn’t my idea to get the Warrens riled up again. You kidnapped their fancy servant, you deal with her.”
Tiffany swung around to catch her first glimpse of her fiancé. But two men were riding past the wagon, not one, and she had no idea which was Hunter Callahan. The men didn’t stop so she didn’t get a good look at them.
Then Hunter’s words struck her forcefully and she turned her wide eyes to Cole. “Kidnapped?”
Chapter Ten
COLE CALLAHAN DIDN’T ANSWER Tiffany immediately, but he was certainly red-faced. He tried to take her arm to escort her up to the door, but she jerked it away. He finally said in a contrite tone, “Didn’t come to that, now did it?”
“But it might have?”
“Settle down. Pa said to get you here one way or the other. We wouldn’t have kept you long, just long enough to frustrate the Warrens.”
That despicable feud. But it was just as well that she and the Callahans had the same agenda, sort of, or this opportunity wouldn’t have presented itself to her. But she was sure she wouldn’t have liked being held hostage here. That would have forced her hand to say who she really was, and they would have taken her straight to her father, which was not going to happen if she could help it.
So she merely gave Cole a baleful look and asked cuttingly, “Are you ranchers, or outlaws? I really would like to know before I step into your—lair.”
“We abide by the law, ma’am,” he said in a defensive tone.
“It sounds more like you skirt it.”
“Wouldn’t be paying you twice what you’re worth if we were trying to skirt anything, now would we?”
She got a little pink-cheeked over that answer herself, so she left him with a curt nod and crossed the threshold into her temporary home. And stopped short. And sneezed. And sneezed again. The Callahans didn’t need a housekeeper, they needed a new house. This one had gone to hell.
Dried mud was tracked halfway down the short foyer that opened into a large main room where several couches and chairs were scattered about. Obviously they’d been shipped in from the East and had once been handsome pieces of furniture, but they were so old that the upholstery had faded to a dingy gray. Smoke from a soot-blackened fireplace had probably backed up into the room too many times. The paintings on the walls were crooked, some very crooked. The hardwood floor was covered with a layer of dust so thick that footsteps were actually outlined in it. Were there no servants at all in this house?
Tiffany turned to ask Cole that question, but shrieked instead when she caught sight of herself in an oval mirror hanging on the foyer wall. Her complexion was a pasty gray riddled with streaks! She hardly recognized herself. She immediately took out her handkerchief and scrubbed at her face, but without water all she was doing was moving the dust and the dirt around.
“See a mouse?” C
ole asked, coming in the front door carrying her large trunk with John’s help. “Sounded like it.” When she just stared at him blankly, he added, “You screamed.”
“I did nothing of the sort,” she corrected him indignantly. “I merely squeaked delicately.” But then she warned, “I won’t tolerate mice. If you tell me you are infested with them, I’ll tell you to put my trunk back in the wagon.”
He chuckled. “No mice, not that I’ve ever noticed. Now run along upstairs and figure out which room you want us to put this heavy thing in.”
“You may put it down where you are. There is only one priority right now: that you show me where I can bathe. I can’t abide for another moment this veil of dirt you and your brother—”
“Take it on upstairs, Cole. I can show the lady where she wants to go.”
Cole looked beyond her to say, “I thought you—”
“Curiosity got the better of me,” the newcomer interrupted, and headed back the way he’d just come, so by the time Tiffany turned toward him, she merely saw a broad back. “Come along, Red. The bath is this way.”
She wouldn’t have budged an inch under normal circumstances. Did he really just give her a nickname based on the color of her hair? But she was starting to feel itchy from all the dust that must have gotten into her clothes.
She hurried after the tall man. He had unfashionably long, black hair. She would have thought him a household servant if he weren’t wearing a gun belt, or did even servants wear them in Montana?
The hall had narrowed and dimmed once they passed the stairs to the upper floor, but at the end of it light came from a door that had been left open. Which was where the man led her, into the kitchen. Tiffany took one look and closed her eyes tight. And started counting to ten in her mind. And prayed she wouldn’t start screaming. Whoever had last cooked here had left the kitchen strewn with dirty pans and dishes.