Mary Connealy (15 page)

Sophie met his gaze with the coolest one she could muster. She had the feeling that many a man would back down under that look in Clay’s eyes, but she had no fear of him. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

A flicker of surprise passed over Clay’s face. Sophie wondered when the last time was that he’d been sassed.

Then he did something that took her completely by surprise. He closed the few inches between them and kissed her. He pulled back. “See that you don’t.”

The kiss had been over almost before it began, but it had still left Sophie’s lips tingling. She had to hold herself from leaning toward him again. Then he let her arm go and turned his horse toward Sophie’s catch.

Clay stopped his horse to turn and look at her. After a few seconds he said gruffly, “Get back to the house and take care of the children, woman.”

Sophie laughed again. “Yes, sir!” She gave him a sharp two-fingered salute. She was afraid she’d irritated him, but not very afraid. And when she heard his deep-throated chuckle, she wasn’t afraid at all.

Sophie tasted him on her lips and wondered how foolish it was to be falling in love with a man she’d only known two days. Somehow it seemed more foolish than marrying him.

Still, he was her husband. Who better to fall in love with? Then she caught herself. She thought of how much she’d loved Cliff and how much his rejection had hurt.

Of course she’d respect Clay and work hard at his side and honor him whenever possible. But love? No. She rode away, determined not to ever be such a fool again.

“What ya mean it’s been sold?” Judd smashed both fists on the banker’s desk so hard he shoved it back against Royce Badje’s paunchy belly.

Badje stood and pulled his handkerchief out of his breast pocket to dab at his forehead.

Judd smelled the fear in the man and enjoyed it. “Who bought it?”

“R–Really, sir,” Mr. Badje stammered, “b–bank transactions are c–confidential. It isn’t my place to say who—”

“I want to know
who
now!” Judd reached for the massive oak desk to wrench it aside so he could get his hands on this pasty-faced city slicker. He wanted to make this man afraid of him. He wanted to crush him under his heel like the bug he was.

But Judd prided himself on his wiles. He had held back after Cliff died, so as not to draw attention to himself. He had kept his cool, played the game out his own way. Now, he had to do that again. He fought for control of his rage. Finally, he felt capable of straightening away from the desk and lowering himself into the chair, where he’d been sitting so comfortably a moment ago.

He’d been savoring the moment when he’d impress this overbearing banker with the show of cash he could produce. Instead, the banker had said dismissively that the land Judd had been working two years for belonged to someone else.

“Just give me a name,” Judd said through clenched jaws. “I heard the owners had abandoned it. So I scouted it. It looked like a right nice piece of property. I might go out and see if the new owner would dicker with me.”

The stout, little man puffed up, dabbed his forehead again, and with a huff of indignation, returned to his seat. “I can’t give you any details. A banker has a certain position to maintain in a community….”

Judd leaned forward in his seat and reached for the desk, outwardly just to balance himself while he stood, but he knew the effect he had on milquetoasts like this. He let the full weight of his fury blaze in his eyes.

Without Judd saying a word, the banker caved. “There is really no reason I shouldn’t say. After all, it is common knowledge who the new owner is.”

Judd settled back and smiled coldly at the banker. Judd could feel the money burning in his pocket. Thousands of dollars. The full price of the ranch. Two years’ work.

“Clay McClellen. Twin brother of Cliff Edwards, the former owner. Clay bought the ranch when the Mead brothers missed their payment. He married Edwards’s widow and moved out there just last Saturday.” As if to make up for his unethical telling of the new owner’s name, the banker added with a sniff, “It’s very doubtful, with his ties to the property, Mr. McClellen will want to sell.”

“Edwards’s widow?” Judd’s fists curled. “I heard she was long gone, living with relatives.”

“How did you hear that?” Mr. Badje asked. “You’re not from around here.”

A killing fury made Judd want to put his hands around the banker’s fat neck. After a bitter struggle, he found the self-control to say sharply, “Never mind. If it’s sold, there’s no point in discussing it.”

He got up from his chair and left the room. He stalked out of the building, already making new plans. He’d played it too safe before. The law had been watching because the sheriff was sweet on Mrs. Edwards. But in the unsettled West, the only real law was strength. Once he owned the Edwards’s place, buying the sheriff, or getting rid of him and handpicking a successor, would be his first order of business.

He strode down the street of the town he was planning to control. He was tired of waiting around. He’d worked too long and hard to get his hands on that ranch. A twin brother? Where had a twin brother come from? Judd had learned for a fact that Cliff Edwards had no family, except for his wife and a pack of worthless girl children. That had been part of what made the ranch easy pickings for him. Judd didn’t ponder the twin brother’s existence for long. It didn’t matter where he came from; it only mattered that he was here.

Judd shrugged it off. The last brother had proved to be an easy mark, and he’d had no friends to stand up for him after his death. A twin brother would be cut from the same cloth. Judd planned to make short work of him. He stormed down the street and jumped on his mustang. He spurred the mangy critter into a gallop. The night riders weren’t going to get to retire quite as soon as they’d planned.

Royce Badje straightened his string tie with all the dignity of a very big fish in a small, small pond. “Humph!” He strode out of his office and said to his teller, “I’ll be out for a few minutes.” He lifted his black, flat-brimmed hat off the rack by the front door and, after carefully checking that Mr. Mason wasn’t about, he stormed down to Sheriff Everett’s office. He found the office empty, and at the diner, he learned the sheriff was transporting a prisoner and would be gone for a day or two.

Royce Badje returned to the bank a very nervous man.

“Eeeiiyy!”

The high-pitched scream made the horse Clay was riding crow-hop to the side and rear up until Clay thought he might go over backward.

Clay hadn’t been unseated by a horse since he was 15, except when he was busting broncs. He didn’t wait to find out if the horse would throw itself on over. He’d known some to do it.

Clay slipped from the saddle and jumped back from the Appaloosa. The horse snorted and wheeled away from the barn. It charged toward the open field where Clay had just spent the day branding strays.

Just as Clay dropped from his horse, Laura came charging around the corner of the barn stark naked. Clay flinched when he saw the little cyclone fleeing from her mother. Sophie was hot on Laura’s heels, and she scooped her up before she could get any farther. Clay whirled around and faced away from the bare-bottomed toddler. He felt his cheeks heat up, and he pulled his hat low over his face for fear he might be blushing.

Sophie had a firm grip on Laura now, and she rested the little firebrand on her hip. “She got away from me, Clay. I’m sorry. Hope you didn’t get hurt when you fell off your horse.” Sophie turned and went back to the house.

Clay heard her footsteps recede, along with the screaming load of wriggling girl child she was toting. Clay looked up. Four of his men were smirking in his direction.

Clay knew he needed help to run a ranch this size, and he’d needed it quickly. He had put out the word that he was hiring hands, and cowpokes started to straggle in. He hired several of them immediately. Others, who didn’t measure up, he told to move along.

One of them, Eustace, a good hand but young, said, “Fell off, did’ja, boss? Them babies can be almighty scary, I reckon.”

Clay amended his ideas regarding Eustace. Not just young. Young and stupid.

Two of the men turned their backs and started heading for the bunkhouse. Clay could see their shoulders quivering. It was a wise man who could laugh silently at his boss.

Eustace wasn’t wise. He cracked up and started chortling until he had to hang on to the fence to keep from falling over. The other man, an oldster named Whitey, who reminded Clay somewhat of his pa, wasn’t having any part of any laughter. He was trying to settle his own horse down. Whitey had ridden up Monday morning hunting work. Clay had liked what he’d seen and hired him on the spot. Whitey had worked tirelessly at Clay’s side ever since.

Clay snapped, “Eustace!”

Then Clay told the young pup to pick up his pay and clear out. Eustace was laughing too hard to hear himself getting fired.

Clay planned to do it all over again, but he calmed down before Eustace stopped laughing.

“Naked babies. On a ranch!” Clay shook his head and muttered as he hunted up more work for himself to do so he could stay outside until maybe that house full of women would be asleep. He didn’t do much more than round up his horse before Sally came out to lend a hand. So he wasn’t going to get to escape them anyway. He was dog tired, saddle sore, and he’d had dirt for his noon meal.

Sally said something about apple pie, and after she said it, he could smell it, even if it was just his imagination. And Sally kept holding his hand with her soft fingers and looking at him with those adoring blue eyes until he wanted to see the other girls’ eyes. Especially Sophie’s. He gave up and went to the house.

Clay’s life was better than it had ever been.

Clay’s life was worse than it had ever been.

He couldn’t figure out to have the better without taking the worse along with it, ’cuz they were all mixed together. And better and worse came flocking toward him all the time. He felt like he’d fallen through a hole into another world. A girlish one.

He spent the night after his fall with Sally sitting on his lap, talking about her hero of a pa. Cliff. He got a chance to referee when Mandy and Beth quarreled about whose turn it was to do the dishes. He was unfortunately handy when Laura twirled around in a circle for too long and threw up on his boots. He got drafted to hold on to slippery Laura while she was given a bath, and he thought his ears would break from the high-pitched toddler giggles. Those giggles were nothing compared to the steady stream of whining when Sophie told them to go to bed. It was a normal night.