Eyes of Silver, Eyes of Gold (16 page)

Anne had taken enough guilty peeks to know how different his recovered body was from the ravaged mess she had nursed months ago, but she had never had the courage to really study him.

Tonight nothing seemed real, and she watched him through half-closed, sleepy eyes. Anne had caught glimpses of her brother without a shirt, and there were strong men at the county fair who wore thin tight shirts that displayed their muscles, but Cord was very different from both her brother’s smooth softness and the strong men’s thick bulging bodies.

A memory from Chicago drifted through her mind. She had visited the Lincoln Park Zoo there with Richard and other friends. They had all agreed that the big cats were the highlight of their visit - lions, tigers, cougars. Some were restless, resentful of the cages and imprisonment and paced continuously, smooth muscles rippling under gleaming, short fur. Anne was drawn back again and again. The big cats looked dangerous and undeniably beautiful.

Now she stared at her husband in wonder. Those cats were kept in cages so that people could see and admire them because they were beautiful, and Cord was beautiful. He was really no darker than many heavily tanned ranchers and farmers. Of course, their bodies would be white where the sun never touched, and Cord was an even copper hue all over. Bronze skin slipped smoothly across his muscle. The gaunt look of months ago was gone, but there was no excess flesh and his spine, ribs, and hips were faintly outlined under his skin. The breadth of his shoulders tapered gracefully to the flat belly, narrow waist and hips. Anne knew well the smooth texture of the skin of his chest, which was free of the mat of curling hair her brother had.

How can it be a sin to admire something so marvelous she thought? Surely it cannot be wrong for a woman to look like this at her own husband. She was still staring, entranced, when he came back across the room to her, carrying a cup, and crouched down beside her.

“Here drink this.”

She managed to tear her gaze away from the neat line of hair that ran like a seam from just below his navel to where it widened where his legs joined his body. She didn’t feel awake enough to be embarrassed.

“What is it?”

“Herbal tea that’s good for some kinds of pain. My mother used to make it, and Martha still does. Might not help, but it won’t hurt.”

She sipped the hot liquid, which was bitter, but not unpleasant. “I always meant to ask you about some of the strange things in the little tins on the shelves. Why didn’t you tell me about it when you were hurt?”

“It’s not that strong. Come on back to bed. You don’t have to worry about waking me now.”

She obediently headed back to the bed. He blew out the lamp and curled around her. “Do you have your hands on your stomach because the pressure helps?”

“I don’t know really. Not so much pressure as the warmth, I think.”

Both his hands covered hers, and she nestled back against him gratefully, already feeling less pain and more drowsiness. Either the tea was working or it was time for the cramping to stop.

Just before she dropped off to sleep one thought momentarily roused her. Cord had to her enormous relief weeks ago given up trying to look at her unclothed form. Anne had never understood what seemed to her to be a perverse desire to observe her nude.

Could it be that he wanted to watch her the way she had wanted to watch him tonight? Was it possible that he simply found pleasure in looking at her? Shyness made her unable to deliberately show herself to him, but after that night she stopped trying so hard to hide.

* * *

Chapter 17

CORD WAS LOATHE TO ADMIT
it, but by late winter all their problems had narrowed down to money, or the lack of it. After that first trip to town they were always careful to purchase only necessary supplies, but even so his small supply of cash was down to a few dollars. Adding in Anne’s Grenerton money, something he was dead set against doing, would only put off the inevitable for a few more weeks. He found himself almost as against asking Frank for a loan as Anne was. It had never bothered him before.

He accepted that Frank and Ephraim alone had inherited the Bennett Ranch. His father had written his will that way to protect against losing land to either of the girls’ husbands or because of Cord’s and Marie’s Indian blood.

It was understood in the family, though, that the ranch belonged to them all. Ranch profits supported Ephraim and Martha in the early years before Eph’s law practice began to pay, and when Hannah’s husband turned increasingly to drink, ranch money kept her and her children. Marie, of course, walked away, and Cord felt that by running horses on part of the land, he had his share. Even so, Frank would have given extra money outright. Cord was the one who had always insisted on taking only loans and repaying them.

Ephraim’s older children had all gone East to school, married and stayed, but Pete, the youngest son, wanted to ranch. Frank’s oldest son also wanted no life but that of a cattleman, and the family knew that someday Pete and Luke would run the ranch as Frank did now. Frank’s two younger sons, Gil and Martin, were not drawn to the land, and his daughter, Beth, would surely marry and leave with a husband, although the ranch would always be there for any of them if needed.

Still, Cord could not bring himself to see Frank about money this year. There were alternatives, of course, none pleasant, but one must be chosen. He could round up a bunch of broke horses that met the Army’s specifications and sell them for cavalry mounts, but he hated the thought of unskilled raw recruits climbing on his horses.

He could sell Sailor, the stallion now running with his broodmares, to a Denver man who had wanted the horse for years, but Lathrum’s colt would not be old enough to service mares this spring or next. They could sell one of the cows or a couple of the pigs, but it wouldn’t bring enough to help for long, and although he didn’t tell Anne, Cord half expected that with the way the people of Mason felt about their marriage, much less the way they believed it came about, he might not sell any horses at all this year.

In early March Cord returned from a long, solitary ride across the ranch to calm a silly four-year-old to find Anne almost dancing in the yard. As he unsaddled his horse, it took him a while to decipher the jumbled, excited story. Anne was sure the financial dilemma was as good as solved.

“Guess what, guess what? About half an hour after you left I had a visitor. His name is Adamson, Mr. Henry Adamson from Lincoln, Nebraska. He’s here on other business, but he wants to buy a horse - a two hundred dollars horse, and….”

“Slow down. You didn’t just let some strange man in the house, did you?”

“Oh, no, I had the pistol when I opened the door, and I kept it, but he wasn’t that kind of man. He has silver hair and stands like this. He’s very distinguished looking.”

Her imitation of a man standing almost artificially straight should have been funny, but Cord was already disliking Mr. Adamson, whoever he was.

“Damn it, Annie, distinguished looking men aren’t always saints. You shouldn’t….”

She was too excited to pay a bit of attention. “Will you listen? He wants to buy a horse, a special horse, for a birthday present for his fourteen-year-old daughter. She’s a good rider, and he wants something pretty and spirited enough to be fun but lady-broke and safe. He’s going to Grenerton and he’s going to look at Lathrum’s horses and then he’ll stop here on the way back day after tomorrow.”

The words were just bubbling out of her. “Two hundred dollars. Isn’t that a good price? Wouldn’t that be a good sale?”

Cord looked at his wife, cheeks pink from the cold, eyes lit with anticipation, and mouth curved up in the smile he personally believed could melt rock. How was he was going to make her face reality without crushing her completely?

“Annie, I’ve never sold a horse for two hundred dollars, and if that’s the kind he wants, Lathrum has much better horses. He’ll find what he wants there and won’t stop back here.”

What he didn’t tell her was that people generally bought his horses for half to two-thirds what they would pay someone else for the same animal. It was just one of life’s ugly little realities.

Her face was already falling. “You mean we don’t have any horses that fit that description?”

We
- did she have any idea the way something twisted inside him when she said things like that? He sighed. “There are a couple, but you have to promise not to be disappointed when he doesn’t come back.”

“I promise. Can I can come with you to get them?”

“You can help choose.”

Her eyes were already shining again. Damn this stranger all to hell.

In the end they picked three horses. All were more refined than most of their herdmates and had pretty heads with big eyes and slightly dished profiles. Cord felt they all had the basic temperament Adamson was referring to.

Anne’s favorite was a chestnut mare with a large even star on her forehead and small kiss-sized white snip between her nostrils. Her mane and tail were slightly lighter than her body color, and Anne named her Wild Honey.

Cord spent the afternoon starting all three horses on a quick refresher course of their saddle lessons. He rode the first horse carrying an old blanket, and when Anne asked, explained that lady-broke meant, among other things, unafraid of skirts. As far as Cord was concerned, if he was going to bother working horses in hopes of making a sale, he might as well put his best effort into it.

Far from disagreeing, Anne ran back in the house and got him real petticoats. The next day he worked each horse morning and afternoon for half an hour with a petticoat tied on the saddle on each side. The day after he gave each horse another short workout early in the morning, enough to be a reminder, not enough to tire the soft, unconditioned animals out.

Finished riding, Cord found Anne going over each horse with her sewing shears. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Well, they look so fuzzy in their winter hair. I thought I’d just neaten them up a bit.”

She cut away, taking the long hairs that stuck out of the ears off and trimming the long coarse hair under the jaws and on the back of the legs. It did make them look better, but Cord balked when he found her carrying warm water from the house to wash their tails.

“Damn it, Annie, enough’s enough. You’re going to be in tears when the bastard doesn’t show up anyway.”

“I don’t see how it can hurt. He wants something pretty for a birthday present for his daughter. We’ve gone this far.”

The curdling dislike Cord felt for this man he’d never met was growing by the minute. They ate lunch in silence, Cord waiting for the first signs of unhappiness. By one o’clock he felt smothered and was thinking of just saddling something up and riding off. Shortly after one Foxface began to bark.

Meeting Adamson, Cord found it hard to sustain his dislike. The man was pleasant and businesslike. He looked at each of the three horses carefully, making no comment about their neatened appearance or the clean, shining tails. He watched Cord ride each one, then asked to ride Wild Honey. He rode quietly and well, and the knot in Cord’s stomach loosened a bit more. Dismounting, Adamson asked if the mare had ever been ridden by a woman. When Cord shook his head, Adamson asked if Anne could ride her.

“Don’t have a sidesaddle.”

“That’s not a problem.”

Minutes later, Anne got on the pretty chestnut mare.

“You ride her exactly the same as Lady,” Cord said. “Walk her around and feel her out as you go. If you start to feel uncomfortable, quit. There’s nothing to prove, you understand?”

She grinned at him knowingly. “Skirts. That’s what we’re proving isn’t it?”

The two men watched her walk the mare around the corral, doing all the little circling and turning maneuvers Cord had taught her and then moving the horse into a slow trot.

Without taking his eyes from Anne and the horse Adamson spoke, “I envy you, you know. My wife has been dead for five years now. She didn’t look at all like Mrs. Bennett, but she had the same appetite for life, same joy in living. After five years I still miss her as if it were yesterday. You have no idea how lucky you are, to be just starting a life with such a woman.”

Cord made no response because he could think of none.
Starting a life
. If only Adamson knew. Anne finished her ride, cantering the mare in each direction around the corral. Adamson said nothing as Cord unsaddled the mare and turned her loose with the other two, and then asked, “Would that tall bay gelding in the next corral be broke the same?”

So he didn’t like the mare. Cord looked over. “The fancy horse with four stockings? Yeah, they’re all broke the same, but that’s not a woman’s horse. He’d be more for a man who likes something powerful and a little catty.”

“Can I try him?”

“Sure.” Cord saddled the tall bay, and Adamson rode him both in the corral and outside.

On the ground again, Adamson said briskly, “I don’t like haggling, and I already told your wife I’d pay two hundred dollars for the kind of horse I want for my daughter. I’ll give you the two hundred for the mare, and three seventy-five for the mare and the gelding. The problem is that I need them delivered to Mason to ship to Nebraska on Tuesday morning’s train. My daughter’s birthday is next week. They tell me they have no loading facilities and it means getting them in a cattle car right there at the station. The train only stops for fifteen minutes. Are you willing to try?”