A Cowboy Unmatched (4 page)

 
 Chapter 5 
 

Neill crouched on the back of the rooftop, careful to keep his head low. As a hired man, it wasn't his place to interfere in Clara's affairs. Nevertheless, instinct warned him to stay close. He didn't recognize the barrel-chested man who had just ridden in, but judging by the scornful glances he cast at the house and barn as he dismounted, Neill had a pretty fair guess as to his identity.

“Hello, Mack.” Clara's greeting confirmed his suspicion. The porch overhang blocked her from his view, but he imagined her standing tall and proud as she faced down her father-in-law.

“Clara.” Mack Danvers took a few strides closer to the house, then braced his feet apart and crossed his arms over that broad chest. “I see you haven't birthed my grandson yet.”

“What do you want, Mack? I haven't changed my mind since your last visit, and I won't be changing my mind any time in the future. So leave me be.”

Neill grinned at the way she cut to the heart of the matter. She'd not forfeit control to her adversary, even in conversation.

A scowl darkened Mack's features. “I ain't leaving until you and I come to an understanding.” He took a menacing step toward the porch. Neill tensed, muscles coiled and ready to spring into action if needed. But Mack stopped his advance after that single step and just glowered at his daughter-in-law.

“Is it more money you're wanting? I shoulda known you'd be a greedy creature. That's why you married my boy in the first place, right? Thought you'd live out at the Circle D surrounded by finery, didn't you? Ha! Matthew might've loved to thumb his nose at me, but even he knew you didn't belong there. That's why he stashed you out here, away from decent folk.”

Neill's jaw clenched so tight his teeth ground together. Pain radiated up his forearm from the increased pressure of his grip on the hammer, now digging into the heel of his hand. He glanced at the tool, then slowly unfurled his fingers from around the handle, afraid he would hurl it at Mack Danvers's head if it remained in his grasp.

“Five hundred,” the man growled. “Five hundred and you sever all ties to the child. Go wherever you want. Do whatever you want. But
I keep the boy and raise him to take his proper place at the Circle D. I've got a wet nurse ready to take over his care the minute he's born. He'll want for nothing.”

“Nothing but a mother's love.” Clara's soft voice held an edge of steel.

This
was what Mack Danvers wanted? To separate her from her child? No wonder Clara refused to talk about it. The very idea was abhorrent. Neill knew firsthand what it was like to grow up without a mother. His brothers had loved him and filled the void as best they could, but there'd been no softness, no kisses on skinned knees, no lullabies. A piece of his heart had always felt neglected, no matter how he denied it to himself or others. He'd never been able to identify what had been missing until Travis wed Meredith and they'd had their first baby. Watching his sister-in-law lavish affection on his nephew finally opened his eyes.

Perhaps that was what had drawn him to music as a boy. He'd been trying to replicate the comfort of a mother's song.

“Come now, Clara.” Mack's condescending tone raised Neill's hackles. “How do you expect to provide for the boy? All you have is a run-down shack that will probably collapse during the next snowfall. You have no money. No way to provide a living for yourself, let alone a child. And even if you could find work, who would tend the baby? Quit being sentimental and selfish. Do what's best for the child. Give him to me to raise.”

“Yes, because you did such a great job with your own sons,” Clara spat back in retaliation. “One never lived to be a man and the other grew up despising you.”

Mack charged the porch, his face livid. “It's only because of you and your heathen kind that my boys are gone!”

Neill shoved to his feet and ran across the roof. When he reached the porch overhang, he grabbed hold of the edge and swung himself over the side, tucking his legs up to his chest in order to dodge the railing. He landed on his feet with a thud and immediately put himself between Clara and her father-in-law.

“What . . . ?” Mack jerked back. “Where the devil did you come from?”

Neill ignored the question. “It's time for you to leave.”

The man's eyes narrowed. “This is a
family
matter, mister. Between my daughter-in-law and me. Step aside.”

Neill didn't budge. “Where I come from, family supports one another. We don't exploit each other's weaknesses for personal gain.” He leaned his face close to Mack's. “Nor do we try to take children away from their mothers.”

Mack glowered at him. Neill glowered back, his arms tense and ready should the man require some physical convincing. So focused was he on the threat Mack presented that he failed to notice Clara's movement behind him until she stood by his side, lightly touching his arm.

“Let it go, Neill. This is none of your concern.”

None of his concern? How could she say that? No man worth his salt would stand by and let another man bully a woman. A pregnant woman, at that. Maybe he had no claim on her, but that didn't mean he couldn't stand up for what was right.

“I'm not leaving.” His eyes never left Mack's. “I won't interfere if you want to have more words with this yahoo, but you'll have to do it with me here. I aim to see that Mr. Danvers keeps a lid on that temper of his.”

“That won't be necessary,” she insisted, her fingers tightening a bit around his forearm. “I believe my business with Mr. Danvers is concluded. He could offer me five
thousand
dollars, and I'd still not give up my child.”

“You're a fool, Clara.” A hardness came over Mack's features, a hardness that made Neill's insides go cold. “That boy belongs with me, and I won't give up until he's mine.” He turned from Clara to Neill, his mouth twisting into a smirk. “Your guard dog won't be here forever.”

Neill's hands balled into fists, but Mack took a step backward, easing himself off the porch.

“Oh, by the way,” he added nonchalantly when he reached his horse. “I've given orders for the Circle D hands to take turns watching over your place. I felt it my
family
duty.” He speared a quick glance at Neill. “I wouldn't want any harm to come to you in your delicate condition, my dear. And, of course, with my men close at hand, I'll be sure to hear the happy news as soon as my grandson's cry hits the air.”

Clara's grip became a vise on Neill's arm, and it was all he could do to stand still at her side when what he wanted was to pummel Mack Danvers into the dirt.

The man lifted his foot to the stirrup, mounted, and then saluted the two of them with an arrogant flick of his wrist before finally taking his leave.

Neill watched him go, the man's words ringing in his ears: “
Your guard dog won't be here forever.”
His gut clenched. Mack Danvers held all the cards. He could just wait Neill out. Wait for Clara to be vulnerable. Unprotected.

The roof was nearly finished, and Clara had yet to give him a list of chores. He might find a way to lengthen his stay by a day or two, but what then? What would become of Clara and her baby when he left?

Clara's hand slid from his arm, and Neill turned to face her. She looked as if a gentle breeze would knock her over. Complexion pale. Arms shaking. He immediately took her elbow and steered her back into the house.

“Come inside. You need to sit down.”

“I'm fine,” she protested, but Neill wasn't about to let her pride push him away. She needed him.

The notion sunk into his heart like a stone sinking in mud, surrounded on all sides until it became part of the earth itself.

No one had ever needed him before, not to this extent. The youngest of four brothers, he'd always been included yet never felt truly essential. Until today. Clara needed him. And suddenly nothing else seemed to matter. Not the ranch he and Josiah hoped to buy. Not the roof he was expected to finish. Not his dream of proving himself a man equal to any of his brothers. All that mattered was protecting Clara and her baby.

And he only had two days to figure out a way to do that.

Plotting and scheming would have to wait, though. Right now he had to get Clara settled.

The house only boasted two rooms—the bedroom behind the closed door, and the front room that served as kitchen and small parlor. Neill guided Clara to a faded armchair in the parlor section and urged her into the seat.

“Really, Neill. I'm fine.” Her color did look slightly improved, but he found he couldn't leave her. Not yet.

He patted her arm. “Humor me.” He saw a footstool against the wall and moved to retrieve it. “Here. Put your feet up.” He knelt at the edge of her chair and reached for the heels of her shoes, thinking to help her. She hurried to lift them on her own.

Soft leather brushed against his hand, and swinging fringe danced against his fingers.

He grinned up at her. “Are you wearing moccasins?”

Clara blushed and tried to arrange her skirt to more fully conceal her footwear. “They were my grandmother's,” she muttered. “My feet have swollen over the last month, and my usual shoes pinch. These are more comfortable.”

“I'm jealous.” Neill teasingly tried to get another peek. “I always wanted a pair of moccasins. I figured if I had some, I'd be able to sneak up on my brothers without them hearing me.”

Clara shyly met his gaze. “You don't find them . . . heathen?”

“Are you kidding?” He rocked back on his heels. “If God clothed Adam and Eve with animal skins when they left the garden, it seems to me He'd be in favor of such footwear. Don't you think?”

She smiled, and the tension he'd been battling finally seeped out of the room. Then Clara leaned back in her chair and released a heavy sigh.

“Every day I pray that this child is a girl.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach. “I pray that she looks so much like a Comanche that Mack will take one look at her and want nothing to do with her.”

“Do you really think that would stop him?” Neill watched her hands as they made slow, circular motions over her belly. When she stopped, he leaned closer and covered her hand where it rested on the chair arm, half expecting her to jerk away, but she didn't. Satisfaction surged through him.

“No. Mack is so desperate for an heir of his own blood, he'd probably take a girl, too. But I'm not giving up my child, Neill.” Tears clogged her throat. “I'm not!”

Neill rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, then bent forward and dropped a kiss onto the soft skin. Clara sucked in a shocked breath, her gaze flying to his.

“I know you're not.” He spoke the words without a single ounce of doubt. “I'm going to help you.”

“How?” she sputtered.

“I'm not sure yet, but I'll think of something.”

She curled her free arm around her swollen abdomen in a protective gesture that solidified Neill's resolve. “I have a little money set aside. Matthew never touched the funds I had left from my father's estate. He only gambled with Mack's money. It would be enough to see me
through a year or two if I scrimped. Plenty of time to find work after the baby is weaned. But I fear Mack will try to force the issue. He's threatened to take me to court if I fail to go along with his terms. Have me declared unfit.”

Her hand trembled as she lifted it to push a piece of hair behind her ear. “What chance would I have against him—a woman with no income, tainted by Comanche blood, against a rich white man who's a pillar of the community?”

Neill dropped another kiss onto her hand. “He must worry that you'd have at least a small chance. That's why he'd rather buy you off than risk a hearing.” He wanted to believe that honest men wouldn't take a child from his mother's arms just because another relative had more money, but he'd been out in the world long enough to know that wealth and power could sway a man's ideals.