“Well now, Mrs. Thorne, it would appear your Riley’s told my Glory that he plans to stay.” Her pudgy hands folded atop her rounded belly, Biddy braced her bulk against the dry sink as she stared out the kitchen window. When Louise Thorne came to stand next to her, Biddy pointed out Riley’s stiff-legged approach and Glory’s bustling at his back, her mouth going as fast as her feet.
A secret smile on her lips, Biddy reflected that she’d known Riley was just the thing Glory needed to pull her out of her mourning self. He could always get a rise out of the girl just by being around.
“Lord above, Biddy, if you thought she was mad when we pulled up and I spilled the beans—me and my big mouth—well, just look at that child now. What are we going to do?”
Keeping her pleased gaze trained on the spectacle outside, Biddy countered, “Not a thing. As you said, ’tis up to the Lord above.” She watched Glory and Riley a moment more before turning to Louise. “Thank you for talking Riley into coming today. I’m only sorry that Zeke and John felt they couldn’t come inside.”
Still peering through the pane of glass, Louise waved a hand at Biddy, as if dismissing her thanks and her concern. “Oh, stubborn boys. They’re Thornes through and through—like their big brother. I dang near had to hog-tie Riley to get him to agree to stay on Lawless land. And Ben? That husband of mine liked to have turned purple, he was so mad at the idea. I’ll tell you who you need to thank—that poor rider you sent with your note. He came close to gettin’ hisself shot before he could give me your message.”
Louise now turned mischievous brown eyes and a wide grin on Biddy. “But now that Riley’s here? Why, you couldn’t throw him off the place. That sweet little Glory gets his goat every time. All she has to do is bat those pretty eyes and my boy’s mush in her hands. Only he’d never admit it.”
Biddy smiled at Louise, taking in the strong profile of her kind face, which suddenly crumpled with lines of worry as she shot Biddy a worried look. “You do know that his heart and mind are set on Glory, don’t you?”
Biddy sighed. “Oh, aye. We’ve all known since Glory was a babe and him only six years old. The only one who doesn’t seem to know is Glory herself. ’Tis probably for the best she doesn’t, bein’ as your Mr. Thorne would be none too happy with such a match.”
It was Louise’s turn to sigh. “Ben would as soon be dead as see Riley hitched to Glory. But what his pa thinks won’t stop Riley, if it’s Glory he wants. I tell you, if she feels the same about him, there’ll be no end to the trouble.”
Biddy shook her head. “I know. But should it come to pass, I’ll have none to blame but meself. I did ask him here and thus threw the children together.” Having said that, she focused on her friend’s face, now seeing a hint of doubt or a degree of hesitation in Louise’s features. Biddy pursed her lips, ordering, “Come on, then. Out with it. Whatever it is, ye’ll feel better for havin’ said it.”
Louise slumped. “You’re right. There’s … talk, Biddy, among the cattlemen, what with J. C. bein’ gone. Talk about taking back their grazing lands. I’m afraid it could go beyond talk … and real soon. They’ve had meetings, and folks are all riled up.”
Biddy’s hand went to her throat. “The saints preserve us.” She turned again to gaze out the window. This time she looked past the farmyard to the hills beyond. “All this land. A body’d think there’d be no need to come to a blood feud over grass for cattle.”
Behind her, Louise spoke quietly. “J. C. did start it, Biddy.”
“I know.” In the somewhat strained silence that followed, Biddy focused on Riley’s and Glory’s advance on the house. Through the glass pane, the young’uns’ muffled shouts grew louder. “Through it all, my Catherine counted you as a friend. She hated the feuding between the men. Tell me I wasn’t wrong to send word to you last evening of Jacey’s leaving.”
Biddy felt a gentle squeeze on her shoulder. “You weren’t wrong,” came Louise’s earnest words. Biddy exhaled. When Louise withdrew her hand, Biddy turned from the window and watched her guest walk back to her chair, to the coffee cup that sat waiting for her. It was so easy to forget she was a Thorne. And that Riley was one, as well.
Easing down onto the cane chair, Louise Thorne then cupped her mug with both hands. Finally, she turned misting brown eyes Biddy’s way. “I miss Catherine, Biddy. You know what she meant to me—how she defied J. C. to help me in my birthing bed all those times. I just hated it that there was nothing more I could do after the funerals. But Ben insisted I come right home.”
“’Tis yer place to be beside yer man.” Biddy crossed the orderly kitchen and patted Louise’s sturdy shoulder. No matter how pigheaded he can be, she added to herself before continuing. “The place hasn’t so much the feel of a home without me Catherine—I raised her from a babe, came all the way from Boston with her, I did. But we’re getting by. ’Tis day-to-day, but now there’s naught to remind us … except for three graves out back. And our heavy hearts.”
Louise tsk-tsked. “To think Catherine’s own family might’ve had a hand in her death. It’s just too horrible. But J. C., for all his faults, loved her … even unto the grave.” Sniffling, dabbing her eyes with a folded hanky she pulled from a pocket, Louise waved it at Biddy and gave her a watery smile. “We’ll both be blubberin’ like babies if we keep on like this.”
“We’re near enough as it is,” Biddy confirmed, using her apron’s ruffle to wipe her own eyes. “Come on, let’s go save yer son from Glory’s Lawless wrath.”
The two women exchanged a glance and then bustled out of the kitchen. They rounded the corner into the great room, stopping just as the front door slammed open. Riley burst inside. Glory was quick on his heels and shouting, “I should’ve known what you were about when you unhitched your horse from the wagon!”
Biddy clutched at the cross on a chain around her neck. Maybe she’d been wrong to ask Riley here. But it was too late now for second thoughts. Because the young man’s arms were full of his belongings. And wasn’t he the fine one, ignoring as he did Glory’s tuggings on his coat and her shouted words? Biddy’s eyes widened as Riley, without so much as a how-do-you-do, marched straight for the stairs and the second-floor bedrooms.
The Lawless nanny exchanged another look with Riley’s mother, who looked as taken aback as she felt. Biddy knew she had to step in. This was all her fault. “Now, Glory Bea, yer forgetting yer manners. I’d like to think I’ve done a better job with yer upbringing than this.”
Her admonition garnered for her the blazing glare of her youngest charge. “Not according to Riley, you haven’t.” The girl advanced on her as if she thought her old nanny a wayward hen out of the coop. She pointed at Riley as she spoke. “Tell him he can’t stay. Tell him he’s not wanted or needed here. Tell him to get off my property right this minute.”
Before Biddy could open her mouth, Riley stopped his boot-scuffing progress up the wooden stairs long enough to call out, “Or you’ll what, Glory?”
Glory spun on him. “Or I’ll have my men throw you off, Riley Eugene Thorne. That’s what. You and your horse and your wagon and your moth—.” Glory went stock-still before slowly turning to face Riley’s mother.
Recognizing Glory’s gaffe for the opening it was, Biddy pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her bosom. In censuring silence, she watched her precious baby’s grass-green eyes widen as she bit at her bottom lip hard enough to redden it. The child was so delicate and so beautiful. It was true—she was spoiled to the bone.
But Biddy let none of her tenderness for Glory show when she reminded, “What was it ye promised me—and not an hour ago—about outside help? There now. Look at your face. I thought ye might remember. So, what do ye have to say for yerself?”
Glory blinked and crumpled two-handed at her brown wool skirt. A guilty pinch of skin appeared between her finely arched but lowered brows. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Thorne. I meant no disrespect. It’s just that … Riley can’t stay here. Won’t you make him see that?”
Biddy spared Louise by answering for her and drawing Glory’s repentant gaze to her face. “She’ll do nothing of the sort. I invited them here today, as ye now know, and ’tis here they’ll stay—as my guests. Do ye think, Miss Lawless, ye can be tellin’ me who I can and cannot have to visit?”
Glory gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. She then flew into Biddy’s arms, blubbering out her apologies. “Oh, Biddy, I never meant—Of course, you don’t need my permission. You’re my family. I love you. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me today.”
Thinking she knew exactly what—and who—had gotten into Glory, Biddy patted the child’s slender back and looked beyond her to Riley, still paused on the stairs. Silently she nodded for him to continue on. He nodded back and trudged upward.
Biddy then held Glory away from her and smoothed from the girl’s tear-dampened face her darkly auburn hair, all but undone from the severe bun she’d taken to wearing since the … recent deaths. “Now, there, there, baby. I know ye meant no harm. Come, make yer manners to Mrs. Thorne. She’s kept her boys waitin’ long enough outside the gate.”
Her hands folded in front of her, her head down, Glory stood before Biddy and sniffed as she nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” She then turned to Mrs. Thorne. “Forgive me, please. I’ve just been so … so … since Mama and Papa—”
Louise Thorne grabbed Glory to her in a bear hug and came near to pounding the breath out of the girl, in Biddy’s alarmed estimation. “You think no more on it, honey. It’s already forgotten.”
She then held Glory out at arm’s length and smiled into her stricken face. “Biddy was right to send for us. We’re neighbors, and we’ve got to look out for one another. Womenfolk understand these things, even if our men don’t.” She looked long and hard into Glory’s face and then laughed in her loud, cheerful way before adding, “Now promise me that once I leave, you won’t throw Riley off the place.”
Glory nodded her promise, following it up with her words. “I promise.”
A wrench of emotion shook Biddy as she stared at Glory’s high coloring, her petite but exquisite figure, that mess of rich brown hair and those bright-green eyes. She looked so much like her mother.
Just then, Louise released Glory, turned to Biddy, and smiled as she said, “I’d best get on home. I thank you for the coffee and the hospitality. I’ll get by when next I can.”
“See that ye do, Mrs. Thorne. Yer visits are always a pleasure. Can I fix ye and the boys a little something to tide ye over?”
“No thank you. We got our own basket in the wagon.” Louise turned again to Glory. “You don’t be a stranger, either, honey. A woman gets hungry for female company, what with only a husband and five sons and a bunch of rowdy cowhands for company.” Then she laughed. “Well, four sons now, what with Riley’s being here. You try not to kill him now, you hear? I set an awful lot of store by my eldest.”
Biddy kept her watchful gaze on Glory, noting with a nanny’s pride and satisfaction the girl’s obedient nod to the older woman. Louise then swept by Glory and made her brisk way toward the front door. Biddy watched her neighbor’s departing back a moment and then glanced at Glory … in time to catch a flash of gold-flecked will in those narrowed green eyes.
* * *
Up on the second floor of the Lawless main house, Riley looked around the room that he’d claimed by its unused look. The bedroom he shared at home with his brothers was more like a bunkhouse, he supposed, crowded as it was with the five of them and the stacked bedding. In contrast, this quiet and strange room loomed huge and airy and … unwelcoming.
He studied the neatly made narrow bed with its polished wood headboard and footboard, the matching dresser and washstand. Off to one side sat a tall armoire that looked too fancy for the house. Starched curtains hung at the two long windows. On an impulse, Riley crossed to them and looked out. Just as he’d calculated—and hoped. The barn and its service court. And the wagon yard. A good view of the working part of the Lawless spread.
For a moment, he concentrated on the activity outside. Even though all the chores being done were no different than those performed at home, Riley couldn’t shake the feeling of strangeness at being here. Actually, he asked himself, just what the hell am I doing here?
Receiving no answer, he huffed out his breath and retrieved his carpetbag from where he’d tossed it onto the floor a moment ago. Quit trying to second-guess yourself, Thorne. You made your decision yesterday to come here. And here you are. You might as well unpack and make it official. Flopping the bag on the bed, he opened it. And stared at its contents.
Then, with deliberate, determined motions, as if someone dared him to do otherwise, Riley began pulling out shirts and socks, extra denims, a combination suit … but, unexpectedly, his hands stilled. He stared again at his clothes. I must be plumb loco. I’m liable to get a bullet in the back at any minute. And yet here I stand, playing at houseguest.
Feeling a sudden need for outside activity, Riley abandoned his unpacking and reached for his Stetson on the bureau top. Settling it firmly on his head, he cast about for an idea on what he could do. Then his expression and his mood cleared when he remembered Pride. He’d left his horse tied to the rail out front. He needed to go see to him. Feeling better for having a purpose, he turned to exit the room. And jerked up short in surprise.
Framed in the doorway and blocking his exit stood Glory. Riley considered her presence here at the door to his bedroom and frowned. “How long you been standing there?”
She shrugged. “Since just now.”
Had he been so deep in thought that he’d missed her approaching footsteps? Well, here she was, so obviously he had been. When she said nothing else, when the moment stretched beyond awkwardness, Riley prompted, “Say your piece, gal. I’ve got to see to my horse.”
His words hung in the air for long moments. Glory again looked from him … to the bedroom behind him … then at him in the bedroom. Finally, she met his waiting gaze and said, “I want you out of this house. Right now.”
Riley’s eyes narrowed. “I understood you to accept my presence here.”
She raised that Lawless chin of hers. “I did. But ‘here’ doesn’t mean in the main house and only two doors from my … bedroom. It’s not seemly. You can bed down with the other hands out in the bunkhouse.”
Riley put his hands to his waist. “I’m not a hand. And I wouldn’t last five minutes out in that bunkhouse.”
Glory cocked her head at a considering angle and looked him up and down. A disobedient deep-brown curl straggled across her brow. “Just why did Biddy send for you? What are you supposed to be doing?”
Riley saw no need at this point to mince words—or to tell her the entire truth. “I’m here to see that no harm comes to you. Or Biddy. You need a man about the place.”
Glory’s eyebrows shot up. “We have plenty of men about the place.”
“And two of them raised their rifles at us when we rode in. But you know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.”
Riley exhaled, resigning himself to having to put his fear for her well-being into terms she’d accept. “You need someone to oversee your spread.”
“A Thorne overseeing Lawless concerns? Hardly. If anything needs overseeing, I’ll do it.”
Riley ignored her comeback and continued with his list. “You need someone to keep an eye on the hills for strangers, for folks who don’t belong here.”
“You’re the only one who doesn’t belong here.”
A flash of irritation jerked a muscle in Riley’s cheek. “Maybe so. But Smiley and your hands will be out riding fence and checking on strays. So who’ll order supplies and pick them up? Direct the grazing of the remaining herd? Oversee equipment repairs? Settle disputes? Take on new—”
“Smiley, me, and Biddy. We can do all those things. Plus keep the books. I know how to do that.”
Frustrated, and feeling somewhat useless, Riley blurted, “You need someone to be the man inside this house.”
“No, I don’t. I can be the—Well, no I can’t, can I?”
There. That got her. Riley hitched his pants all around and glared out his importance. “That’s what I thought. Now, clear on out. I’ve got to see to my horse.” He headed for the door.
Glory didn’t budge. “Biddy already had Pops take Pride to the barn.”
It seemed to Riley that there was a heap of pride in this room, too. But he thought better of mentioning that, and so he changed the subject. “I need to say my farewell to my mother.”
“She already left. She said for you to behave yourself while you’re here.”
Riley frowned so deeply he felt his eyebrows meet over his nose. “My mother hasn’t told me how to behave since I was in knee pants.”
“She did this time. She also said for you to watch your language around a lady.”
Now that did it. Riley strutted over to Glory and bodily pressed her out of his way. Sweeping past her, his long-legged strides carrying him handily down the hall, he called over his shoulder, “Find me a lady, Glory Bea Lawless, and I’ll watch more than my language.”
Glory yelled something back. Riley didn’t catch it, but figured he knew the gist of her words. His disgruntled mood swept him down the stairs, through the great room, out of the house, and across the hard-packed dirt of the wagon yard to the barn.
Muttering to himself, calling himself three kinds of a fool—a Thorne bedding down on Lawless property—Riley’s better nature argued with him to remember the whys and wherefores of his being here. “I ought to do just like she said—get on Pride and head for home,” he told himself. “What do I care if Glory ends up in a heap of trouble? Serve her right, the little—”
Riley stopped, looking around. He’d been talking out loud to himself. And it’d been noted. A couple of men in the yard stared his way, their hands no longer busy saddling their horses. An old dog raised up from his nap long enough to assess and then dismiss the disturbance before flopping back down on his side.
Frowning fiercely, denying the steady heat in his face, Riley strode—closemouthed—into the barn. He looked down the central aisle of the building, marveling as he always did at the sheer size of the Lawless horse barn. Apparently it took a lot of horses to run a spread this size.
A spread this size. More than one man had died trying to take back from J. C. what he’d stolen from them—the best of their grazing lands. And he’d taken, with muscle and guns, the most land from the Thornes. There’d been blood shed and hard feelings throughout the territory since those days. But now with J. C. gone, the ranchers were talking again of taking back what rightfully belonged to them.
Riley thought he could hear again the shouts for justice from the cattlemen last week when they’d held a meeting on Thorne land. True, none of them had wanted to go up against a shootist like J. C., but the old man was no longer a factor. Only his youngest daughter stood in their way. And here I am in the middle of it. Good timing, Thorne.
Willing away that troublesome prick of conscience, Riley searched the stalls for his horse. When the first few yielded no Pride, and with his patience for this day wearing thin, Riley whistled sharply. About halfway down the corridor, the gray gelding poked its head out of a stall and pricked its ears at him. Glad for a friendly face, human or otherwise, Riley started for his horse.
Behind him, the cheerful whistling coming from the tack room stopped short and a door opened. Alert to any threat, Riley paused to glance over his shoulder. A group of men filed out and stared his way. Reluctant to show his edginess, Riley faced forward and forced a nonchalance into his step. Best to ignore what wasn’t his business.
“Riley Thorne? We’d like a word with you.”
Now it was his business. Stopping, he turned around to find himself faced with a knot of Lawless hands—among them the man Biddy’d sent with her note. At their front stood their foreman, Smiley Rankin. Readying himself for anything, Riley opened up the dialogue. “You call my name, Mr. Rankin?”
“I shorely did. We wuz wonderin’ why Miz Biddy had Pops here bring yer mount around to the barn. You ain’t planning to stay on, are you?”
“Only as long as I have to.”
The men stirred and muttered, taking a collective step toward him. But the grizzled old foreman, never looking away from Riley, flung an arm out to stop them. “It’s already been long enough, son. Don’t rightly know as we can stomach yer sort on Lawless property.”
Narrowing his eyes at the insult, even as his guts churned with a dose of fear and a heap of bravado, Riley countered, “Well, I don’t know that you have any say in the matter, Mr. Rankin.”
Smiley jutted his stubbly chin out. “Be that as it may, who’s ta say you ain’t up to no good?”
“Me. I say I’m not.” Riley looked into each man’s face, gauging the effect of his words. And promptly decided that maybe he ought to backtrack a little, give them all a chance to walk away. “I’m not looking for trouble here. I accept that you’ve got every right to be on edge, in light of your recent tragedies, but—”
“There ain’t no ‘but’ to it. Now, the Lawless girls figure as how some of their family back east had somethin’ ta do with their folks bein’ dead. But me and the boys … well, we’re not so sure that the blame don’t lie closer ta home. A lot closer, if you git my drift.”
Riley’s gut tightened. “I get it. Loud and clear. And I’m here to tell you you’re wrong.” Even while he paused to let that sink in, Riley wished he could believe his own words. Truth to tell, he had his own doubts about the Lawless murders, too. “I’m here to see after Miss Lawless, is all. Times like these, with killers on the loose, neighbors have to stick together, land feuds or no.”
Smiley’s weather-tanned and lined face hardened. “Them’s mighty peculiar words, comin’ like they do from a Thorne.”
“If you’re accusing me or mine of something, Mr. Rankin, have the guts to come right out with it. I’ve never killed a man before, but I figure there’s always a first time.” Riley distributed his weight evenly on his feet. With his heartbeat pounding at his temples, he waited.
“One against six? Are you loco, boy?”
“Some would say so. Now what’s it going to be? I’m all for staying out of your way, if you’ll do the same for me while I’m here.”
That caused a muttering conference between the hired hands and their foreman. Finally, Mr. Rankin turned back to Riley with their decision. “We don’t want no trouble, neither. And we ain’t accusin’ anyone of anything. Our concern is Miz Glory. She’s no more’n a girl and needs pertection, because there’s trouble coming out on the range. Now, that bein’ the way of it, we’re thinking it’d be best if’n you just saddle up that gray of yers and head on home.”
Riley’s forced-out breath puffed his cheeks. “Much as I’d like to, I can’t do that, Mr. Rankin. Miss Glory wants me here. For the why of it, you’ll have to ask her.” His palms slick with sweat, Riley then did a most foolish thing. He turned his back on the men and took measured steps to the stall where Pride silently watched him.
He didn’t dare breathe until he entered the large stall and put himself out of a bullet’s path. Remaining still and listening, he heard no more than muttered curses and shuffling footsteps out in the corridor. Finally he exhaled and caught Pride’s bridle. Lowering the animal’s head, he stroked his hand down the horse’s velvety muzzle. “Damn, boy, that was a close one.”
“Closer’n you’d care to think, son.”
Riley spun around.
The Lawless foreman stood outside the stall’s closed half-gate. “I’m sorry it has ta be this way. I’ve knowed you since you wuz a boy. And I’ve knowed you to be a good man—the best of the Thorne bunch. But times have changed.” Smiley then paused, frowned, and took a deep breath. “We’ll be keepin’ an eye on you, so watch yer step. And I ain’t just a-talkin’ about the horse droppin’s, neither.” With that, he turned and continued on his way.
Not knowing what to make of that speech—a friendly warning or a threat?—Riley stared at the empty space where the man had stood. He was surrounded by enemies … which put him under Glory’s protection, somewhat like the hen protecting the fox once it was inside the chicken coop. Riley chuckled at that image.
“This has been one hell of a day, and it’s not even half over yet,” he told his horse as he picked up the currycomb from a ledge in the stall.