Authors: Breanna Hayse
"So you
just happened to show up on the same train, right?" Blair hissed.
"It was
a matter of coincidence that I was closest to your vicinity, so I accepted the
assignment.
I had been given your
description and your train route, so locating you was not difficult.
The incident with that man gave me the
prime opportunity to escort you directly to your destination and get to know
you more intimately.
I figured
having some sort of a friendship with you would help me obtain direct access to
your grandfather.
Of course I had
no idea that we would be left stranded at that station or that we would be
forced to take our trip to the trail."
"Coincidence?
I am appalled."
Blair turned her back to him as she
fought back her angry tears.
"You used me.
You used
me to help that hateful old woman find a way to get money that was never
hers."
"Your
aunt forwarded a large sum to investigate this case.
Her sister-in-law had written her a
letter a number of years ago that contained information regarding her suspicion
that Malcolm was after her inheritance.
Your grandmother stated that she was afraid for her life because he was
so heavily in debt from gambling.
Something occurred between then and now that brought that fear to your
great-aunt's doorsteps.
I am
assuming it was this whole deal with you coming of age and inheriting the
property.
She was concerned that
you would be his next target, and that was when she sent for us."
"She
wanted me to be the target and used me as bait, nothing more.
Even you can see that.
Otherwise she would have been looking
into Grandmother's murder when it first occurred," Blair muttered
bitterly, feeling as though her entire world was caving in under the weight of
betrayal.
"I
believe you are correct, honey.
I'm
sorry."
He stood and placed
his hands on her shoulders.
"I
can't believe you have been lying to me all this time."
Blair shoved him away, her eyes blazing
with anger and betrayal.
"How
could you?"
"It was
a job at first.
I was under cover
and could not reveal myself because of the bordello murder investigation.
I did not know there was any
connection."
"You lied to me."
Tears dripped down Blair's face.
"I lied
about who I was, but nothing more.
I love you, and …"
"Get
away from me.
I never want to see
you again.
Take this," she
threw the little silver ring to the floor.
"It's over."
"Blair,
please listen to me.
Blair!"
Blair raced
out as fast as she could, her tears blinding her.
She slammed into Malcolm's body at the
foot of the stairs.
She looked at
him and then turned to look up at Sloan as he stood at the very top.
"I am leaving, Grandfather
Malcolm.
I am going back to
Philadelphia and find a job as a governess.
I don't want any of your money, that
house, or him."
"Blair?
What's wrong?
What happened?"
"Ask
him!" Blair shouted, sobbing into Madeline's arms.
"Blair!"
Sloan shouted, his path blocked by Malcolm.
"Let me by."
"Give
her a chance to cool down, son.
What happened between you two?"
Sloan looked
into the man's eyes.
They were
impossible to read.
"She is
having a tantrum because I don't want her dressing like that."
"Let
her dress as she wants right now.
It won't hurt nothing," Malcolm patted Sloan's shoulder.
"How about a drink?"
"It's a
little too early for whiskey, isn't it?"
"Son,
when it comes to women, it's never too early to drink.
Blair, honey?
Why don't you go take a walk and clear
your head.
If you really want to
return to Philly, I'll arrange a coach for you."
Blair nodded
and walked outside, her heart burning with pain.
Everyone she knew had hidden secrets and
their own agenda.
How could she
ever trust anyone again?
She needed
to leave.
Blair wiped
her face with her sleeve as she tramped furiously down to the corral where
Skinwalker rummaged quietly through a trough of hay, looking for stray oat
stalks.
He perked his ears forward
as she approached him and then snorted indignantly as she interrupted his
grazing to stroke his sleek neck.
"He
lied to me.
All this time.
He lied!" she lamented as she began
to weep bitterly into the long white mane.
"You are the only one who has been honest about how you felt about
me the entire time, haven't you, boy?
The only one who truly cared about me, without an agenda.
What am I going to do?
We need to get out of here,"
"Pardon,
ma'am.
Can I help you?" a
voice called to her.
"No
thank you, Mr. Clay.
I'm going to
just take Skinwalker for a little ride around the spread and get some fresh
air."
She avoided eye contact
with the man as she wiped her sleeve across her wet face.
"Yes
ma'am.
Be careful out there.
There are squatters near the creek in
the north sector, so you wanna stay away from them.
Injuns are to the east and not the most
social bunch.
If you give me a
moment, I can saddle up and escort you."
"Thank
you, Mr. Clay, but I'll be fine.
I
am quite capable of taking care of myself," Blair declared, running her
fingertips over the gun she had slid under the back part of her waistband.
"Are ya
sure, ma'am?
Won't take me but a
minute," Clay said, entering the corral.
Skinwalker laid his ears back as the
foreman approached, baring his teeth until the man backed away.
"That horse has a mighty nasty temper.
You sure you wanna ride him?
Maybe you should put some tack on
him.
It will be too easy to throw
you without a bit and saddle."
"Thank
you for your offer, but I must decline.
As for Skinwalker, he and I have an understanding.
That includes not hindering either of us
with a saddle or cutting up his mouth with a bit," Blair proclaimed, using
a stool to swing onto the horse's back.
She gritted her teeth as her tender bottom made full contact with the
horse's firm flesh.
She eyed Clay.
"My husband and grandfather know I
am out riding and are expecting me back soon.
Good day, Mr. Clay, and thank you again
for your offer."
Blair
avoided the urge to look back at him from over her shoulder as she gently
nudged the large animal with her knees.
Skinwalker, bearing only a simple rope bridle, a saddle blanket and his
rider, shot off like a bullet in the direction of an open field.
Blair gave him his head and hunkered
down close to his back with her arms on either side of his long neck.
Her fingers clung to the sides of the
bridle, and she closed her eyes while allowing her body to rock in rhythm with
the powerful strides.
To avoid the
jolting that accompanied the pounding gait, Blair posted herself by using her
knees to grip Skinwalker's sides, which lifted her sore backside off his back.
She steered him west to avoid the
dangers that Clay had warned her about.
After a long twenty minutes, the horse began to slow and trotted in the
direction of a shallow gully with its running stream.
It took her several minutes before she
found a clearing where she could safely gain access to the water.
Blair slid
her protesting body to the ground and walked down to the sandy knoll, leaving
Skinwalker cooling down under a shade tree.
Her heart ached as she kneeled by the
water to wash off her tear-stained face.
How could Sloan have been so deceitful?
He used her!
He had admitted that she was nothing but
a paycheck to him and the means of solving a five-year-old crime.
None of it
made sense.
All the stories were
too intertwined and meshed together.
She had no doubt that Imelda was as wicked as Malcolm claimed.
Madeline confirmed his comments.
But was Malcolm even worse?
Would he go to the extent of having his
own wife killed so he could gain access to her fortune?
Why, then, would he offer to turn the
ranch and property over to Blair?
Unless he was planning on having her done away with as well.
But again, it made no sense because
Sloan, as Blair's husband, would inherit everything.
But wait …
Sloan was not her husband.
Not
legally.
Did Malcolm know
this?
Blair held her hands in front
of her mouth.
Was Sloan in on this
whole ruse?
He claimed that his
late wife was killed in the same manner as Malcom's wife.
Was this whole ordeal meant to woo her
into falling in love and gain him this inheritance that she had originally
known nothing about?
She scooped
up water in her hat to bring to the horse when she heard him sound out a
warning nicker followed by pounding hooves.
With a frown, she returned to where she
had left him.
"Just
what do you think you doing out here, pretty lady?
This horse needs to learn some
manners.
Damn thing tried to bite
me."
Blair
watched in stunned silence as the lasso around Skinwalker's neck was tied
snugly to a tree, and rope hobbles were placed around his hooves, immobilizing
him.
A tall, lanky man turned to
face her and slowly lifted his rifle and leveled it to her chest.
He was about the same age as her
grandfather, with dark, foreboding eyes, a gray scraggly beard, and unruly
salt-and-pepper hair.
Sloan's
warning words about drawing her weapon echoed in her mind.
This man would shoot her before she had
a chance, of that she had no doubt.
"That
is my horse.
Please, release
him.
I was just out riding.
Did I trespass?"
"You're
Malcolm's granddaughter, aren't you?"
"Yes.
And you are …?" she asked, as she
slowly stood.
The man stood between
her and the horse, blocking her means of escape.
"People
call me Deuce."
He tipped a
flask to his lips and then spat upon the ground.
Blair
swallowed dryly.
She forced a
smile.
"You are a friend of
Mr. Clay's, aren't you?
It is good
to meet you."
"Your
charms ain't gonna work here, girlie.
Start moving."
"I
don't understand.
Did I do
something wrong?" Blair asked nervously, walking ahead of him as he nudged
his gun into her back with one hand while leading the restless horse by the
tight rope.
"You
are just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Tell me what your detective has found
out."
"My
detective?
Sloan is a ranger.
He doesn't tell me anything."
"Don't
you go lying to me, woman.
Spill
it."
"Truly,
sir!
I know nothing other than what
my grandfather has told me."
"So he
hasn't said anything about the gold?"
"What
gold?"
"Girl,
you are in the middle of a web too strong to escape from.
How's your aunt?"
"Aunt
Imelda?
You know her?" Blair
sincerely looked surprised.
"I was
engaged to her one day long ago.
Yep, she was quite the looker back then."