Loggins came along with us. I asked why, and he said he didn’t really need a reason, but if I had to know, he wanted a drink.
Toby agreed with him, but said he’d wait until our business was finished. I grinned at that. Our business. Banker Higgins wouldn’t know what hit him.
I couldn’t ignore the twinge of nervousness in my belly as we neared Ridgely. Not only would we settle the trouble over the farm, but it would be the first time anyone knew I had been the one to hide the witness. Even Abner Barton didn’t realize that.
Loggins pulled up in front of Mick’s saloon. He smiled down at us. “You two go on about your business. I’ll be here—if you need me. I don’t reckon you will.”
I looked at him expressionlessly. “I never needed you before. I won’t now.”
His mustache twitched. “I reckon not, at that. Toby, come on by for a drink when you’re finished, the first one’s on me.”
“What about me?” I demanded. “Am I supposed to wait patiently out here while you two drink up a storm?”
Loggins pulled at his mustache. “I doubt you’ll do it patiently, but you’ll do it.” He grinned, green eyes bright. “You’ve picked yourself out a man, Lonnie-girl, you’d best accustom yourself to it. Every wife does.”
I hackled up, prepared to do battle, but Toby placed a hand on my arm. “You’re both right, but I don’t want to argue about it now. Understood?”
Loggins grinned amiably and swung off his horse. I stared at Toby and saw the stubborn set of his jaw. I couldn’t fight them both, so I fought neither. Elegantly, I thought, I brushed a stray hair from my eye.
“Very well, gentlemen, we will not argue. Toby is free to drink with whom he chooses. However—” I paused significantly, and was rewarded with two pairs of attentive eyes on me— “However,” I continued, “I expect it would be right kind if you brought a bottle home. The bride would like to imbibe a little, too.”
Toby whooped with laughter and Loggins guffawed loudly. I sat primly aboard the buckboard seat and waited for the hilarity to subside. Finally both men quieted and I smiled serenely at them both.
“Are we agreed?”
Loggins shook his head. “Should’ve known. Girl like you will likely drink us both under the table.”
“Then remember it, next time you invite my almost-husband to a saloon.”
Loggins waved a hand. “You’ll get your bottle, Lonnie. Now get along, before I escort you both into that bank.”
Toby grinned and lifted the reins, clucking at the mare to move her out. After a moment he slid me a sideways glance.
“You don’t mean it.”
“Mean what?”
“About the bottle.”
I looked at him levelly. “Of course I do. This is a partnership, Toby Markham. You’re no better than me. And I’ll bet you I can drink you both under the table.” I considered it a moment. “Well, maybe not Loggins. I expect he’s got many a drinking year on us. But you—well….” I grinned.
His brows slid up. “You talk as if you really mean it.”
“I do.”
“Lonnie—whiskey?”
“My pa,” I said carefully, “liked a dram or two. When he died, he left behind two bottles.” I slid him a look. “I drank them.”
“Both?”
“Both.”
He halted the mare before the bank, staring at me. “Have I got myself a drunkard for a wife?”
“I’m not a drunkard!” I flared. “And I’m not your wife yet!”
“All right!” he said hastily. “All right. You’ve made your point. And anyway, I’m not a big one for liquor. Every now and then, sure, but it’s not a habit. You’ll not lose me to the bottle, Lonnie.”
I smiled to myself, content. “Good.”
He jumped down and turned to help me climb out of the buckboard. I stood on the boardwalk before the bank, staring at the gilt painting on the windows. Finally I looked at Toby.
“Let’s get her done.”
“Shall I….” He trailed off as I glared at him.
“This is my business, Toby. You just hold onto that money Loggins gave you.”
“Our business,” he retorted, planting his feet on the boardwalk as I started past.
I glanced back and saw the look in his eyes. “Our business,” I echoed, and took his arm as he held it out to me.
Mr. Polt showed us in to see Higgins, after establishing that Toby wished to see him about my farm. The man was polite enough to Toby, but said nothing to me. It bothered me not at all, and I went softly into the office with Toby.
Higgins was seated behind his desk as we came before him and Polt introduced Toby, explaining his business. Toby had purposely neglected to tell Polt the nature of our relationship, and as far as Higgins knew, he was simply interested in buying the place.
Toby let me sit in the wooden chair, standing behind me, smiling gently at the banker. Higgins gestured Polt out of the office and seated himself behind his big desk.
“The Ryan place. Yes, it’s for sale. But I must ask you why you’ve brought Miss Ryan along. She and I hardly see eye to eye on this matter.”
Toby raised an eyebrow. “Well, sir, she is still the rightful owner. I felt she should be here.”
Higgins pulled at a heavy, gray sideburn, thinking it over. At last he folded his hands and set them on the desk, leaning forward to look more closely at Toby.
“She threatened to stall the takeover any way she could. Do I have reason to believe she has brought you here for that purpose?”
Toby smiled easily, using all the bright charm I knew he had in abundance. “Of course not. I’m a buyer. Do you care to sell?”
The banker looked uncomfortable, shifting his substantial bulk in the chair. He shot a dark look at me but I remained suitably silent and innocent-looking. But I’d never tried it before and wasn’t sure it was working.
“Well,” finally replied Higgins, “in all truth I must say the property isn’t entirely available at this moment. Not until the end of this week.”
“Oh?”
“There’s a time element, you see.” Higgins glanced at me again, seemed satisfied with my expression and continued. “I’m sure Miss Ryan must have told you she has until the end of the week.” He brightened. “Unless she’s willing to leave sooner.”
“No,” I said flatly.
Toby’s hand on my shoulder squeezed, and I said nothing more. Higgins studied me, but remained complacent. Toby, moving forward, leaned over the desk. He spoke very softly.
“Then the land isn’t available for sale yet, is it? It isn’t legally yours to sell.” He smiled. “Is it?”
“Well….”
Toby’s voice cracked across the room. “It’s still hers, isn’t it? Lonnie’s. Not yours.”
“Now wait just a minute,” Higgins sputtered.
“It’s mine,” I whispered. “The land’s mine.”
“Only if you pay the debt!” Higgins snarled, glaring at me. “Abner Barton said you couldn’t.”
“I couldn’t,” I agreed. “Before.”
Higgins’ mouth dropped open as Toby began counting out the money. Finally the banker dragged his eyes to mine.
“You did bring him here. You did stage this entire meeting. You little—”
“No,” I said clearly, “I did not. Toby is going to be my husband. There’s an end to it.”
Toby tapped the pile of bills. “There’s an end to it,” he echoed. “Right here. Bring out the lien. Now.”
“I can fight you,” Higgins said. “I can take it to the judge. He’ll rule in my favor.”
My head came up. “Which judge?”
“Jacob Macklin. Why?”
Satisfaction curled throughout my body. “He hated Jordy, you know. Hated his son. He was glad to hear he finally hanged.”
Higgins stared at me. “What has that to do with this matter?”
“Toby is the witness who testified against them all. The Barstows. He’s the man who got them hanged.” I smiled. “Do you really think Jacob Macklin will take my farm away from the wife of the man who got his hated son hanged—legally?”
The banker’s fleshy face slowly darkened. His shrewd eyes narrowed as he stared me down, but I refused to let him beat me. I stared right back, and after a long moment he cleared his throat.
“Missy, are you telling me—”
“You heard me,” I said, interrupting curtly. “Toby is the witness, Jacob Macklin, glad as he was to hear of his son’s death, would likely prefer to reward the man responsible.” I smiled slowly. “Don’t you think?”
“The deed,” Toby said quietly.
Higgins’ face whitened, then flushed dull red. For a moment I thought he might choke, but he had control of himself. Slowly he reached into his desk and brought out a folded paper which crackled as he flattened it out. He stared at Toby.
“You’re only a boy. What do you know of business?” he said harshly, large hands spread across the deed.
My hackles came up, but Toby’s hand dropped to my shoulder again and rested there. The calmness in his voice amazed me.
“Maybe—to some—I am just a boy. I’m not one to brag much, nor is it a thing I consider worthy of it, but keep in mind Kansas is rid of the Barstows. Your bank—your town—is a safer place without them.” His fingers tightened on my shoulder. “Boy or not, Higgins, it’s enough. Now, let Lonnie sign the deed.”
Silently, heavily, the banker shoved a pen and bottle of ink across the desk at me. I picked it up and stared at the deed, seeing my father’s signature. I signed my own name below it, then passed it to Toby.
“Wait,” Higgins began.
I stared at him. “He signs, too. He’s going to be my husband. Part-owner. This time we want everything very legal.” I bared my teeth at him in a humorless smile. “The bank will have no claim on what’s mine, Higgins, ever again.”
Toby silently signed the deed; Higgins witnessed it with his own scrawled signature; and it was mine once again.
I grinned up at Toby.