They all heard the squawk of the barn door. But Van pounced on him first. “What the hell are you doing back here, Cornell? We sent you home.”
The light behind him, Cornell Norquist moved forward, staying a half pace behind Rafe. His twitching lips and the sheepish tilt of his head gave him away. He’d taken a blow to his ego, and his uncertainty was showing.
Corney headed for Buck and Gabe. He ignored Van, whose balled-up fists and jaw sticking out a mile showed he was clearly itching to fight. Gabe stood with his back against a stall post, all easy and relaxed and a sly smirk on his face, waiting, like Buck, to hear the explanation.
Before Cornell could give his excuse, Rafe intervened. “Doreen and I were on our way to retrieve our errant daughter and met Cornell on the road. He told us what happened up in the canyon. I convinced him to turn back. I thought we should talk this over before the situation gets out of control.”
Buck retrieved a bottle of Kentucky bourbon from an old saddlebag, removed the cork, and poured Rafe a shot of whiskey. “And which situation would that be, Rafe, the situation between you and your runaway daughter, or Cornell setting a charge of dynamite where he had no business blasting?”
He handed Rafe his glass and then turned to Van and offered him a glass. Van refused. Buck shrugged and kept on talking. “Since I doubt you’d listen to any advice I could offer about letting your daughter make her own choices, I assume the situation to which you refer concerns young Norquist. But you see, my sons and I took care of Cornell. We explained to him he had misplaced his dynamite and told him to get. The contract is null and void—no situation to discuss.”
“But that’s just it, Buck,” Cornell said in protest. “Pa gave me written instructions to stay clear of the markers. I did. I set the charge on the opposite side of the canyon away from the markers.”
Gabe pushed off the post to get in Cornell’s face. “Your father told you to stay away from the markers? You sure that’s what he said?”
Buck started to refill Gabe’s glass, but Gabe put a hand over it to stop him.
Cornell greedily extended his glass and nodded gratefully when Buck refilled it to the brim. He promptly downed it in one swallow and then smacked his lips and wiped them with the back of his hand. Fighting for his breath, he assured them, “I’m sure that’s what the instructions said. I don’t understand. If you made it clear in the contract, why would Pa give me the wrong instructions? I can’t figure it. My Pa doesn’t make mistakes.”
They all heard the dinner chime. Buck gave a nod to all gathered and called the meeting adjourned. He tucked the whiskey back into the saddlebag hanging on the wall and placed the glasses upside down on the brace between the studs.
On the way out the door, Buck, Van, and Gabe exchanged speculative glances, and Buck heard Van mumble under his breath, “No, Nils Norquist doesn’t make mistakes.”
»»•««
Everyone gathered on the porch and stood around the dining table outside the opened kitchen doors. The heat and the savory aromas from the kitchen escaped into the cool evening air.
Gabe, obligated to make the introductions, introduced Edditha as his fiancée. He was about to introduce Mrs. Millican to Raphael and Doreen when Mrs. Millican astounded them all by throwing her arms around Raphael’s neck. “You don’t remember me, do you, Sheriff?” Pulling back a little, she cocked her pretty head and smiled up at him. Eyes shining with mischief and delight she said, “No reason why you should, I’m not young and skinny now. I’ve wanted to thank you for so long for giving my brother Pete a job after our folks passed away and seeing to it we had a place to stay. We both might’ve come to a bad end if not for you.”
His hands on her shoulders, Rafe stared into her upturned face and managed to sputter, “Adella? Adella Ridenhour?”
“I know,” she gushed, giving his ruddy cheeks a pat. “Isn’t this the darndest thing? I’ve come close to busting my buttons in anticipation of meeting up with everyone. First, with the famous Buck Hoyt, alias Matt Buxton. Now you, my hero, Sheriff Raphael Bollo.” She dabbed at the tears at the corner of her eyes with her lace kerchief. “I thought I’d have to go into Baker City during our stay to locate you, but here you are. This truly is serendipitous.”
»»•««
Birdie kept in the background out of the way. Although sheer torture, she couldn’t stop watching Gabe. It nearly killed her to see him paying court to Edditha, pulling out a chair for her to the left of the head of the table where Buck sat. Although she took note he didn’t touch the girl. He didn’t put his hand on her back like her papa did her mother. He didn’t smile or speak at all, he simply gestured, and Miss Millican followed his direction. None of their actions struck her as very lover-like at all.
Her mother’s startling announcement fresh on everyone’s ears, the poised Miss gorgeous, her cheeks aflame and lips pulled back in a tight little smile, dipped her pretty head, and fussed with her mismatched silverware. Birdie, as an observer of human nature, suspected Edditha found her mother’s revelations embarrassing and disquieting. The young woman actually stumbled a bit before settling herself at the table.
Buck guided the still-tittering Adella to the chair to his right. Birdie found it interesting Buck had his hands all over the lady. Not all over, but on her arm and her back, and he even took her hand when she lowered herself into the seat.
Buck was flirting…outrageously.
The very idea caused Birdie to press her lips together to hold back the giggles. She wondered if Jo noticed her father’s blatant attentions toward the lovely Mrs. Millican.
Jo had come downstairs the moment she’d heard the dinner chime. She’d arrived in time to help Birdie set the main dishes on the table. Catching Jo’s attention and interpreting her startled expression, Birdie surmised, yes, Jo noticed her father’s fawning attentions toward the lovely Adella all right. But she appeared more confused than disgusted, her chin pulled in and eyes blinking.
Rafe, his hand on Doreen’s back, held out the chair next to Mrs. Millican for her.
Cornell hadn’t waited to be invited to sit at the table, nor had he held out a chair for Birdie. He simply took the convenient chair at the end of the table, which left Birdie no choice but to accept the only vacant chair left, the chair next to Gabe. With Gabe on her right and Cornell on her left, Birdie felt pinned, hemmed in, outflanked, and decidedly uncomfortable.
“How is Pete?” Rafe inquired, placing his napkin in his lap.
“He’s fine,” Adella said. “Living in Olympia. He became a judge, you know. After we left Baker City, we went to live with our mother’s cousins in Tacoma. Pete went to college, got a law degree. He’s thinking of going into politics.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Rafe said. He nodded to Doreen. “I don’t think Gabe got the chance to introduce you to my wife, Doreen.” He nodded down the table to Birdie. “You’ve probably already met my daughter Birdie-Alice. Birdie practically lives out here at the hot spring. And seated next to her is my daughter’s fiancée, Cornell Norquist. Cornell’s father, Nils and I are in business together, mining and road building.”
Adella touched Doreen’s arm and gave her a direct smile. “Lovely to meet you, Doreen.” Smiling at Birdie down the length of the table, Adella said, “Yes, we were introduced to Birdie-Alice upon our arrival. I’m pleased to meet you, Cornell. You’re a lucky young man. Your daughter, Rafe, is a lovely young woman.”
Birdie made herself smile and nod, although she wanted to jump up and scream at her father. How dare he tell everyone she was engaged to Cornell?
She was not engaged to Cornell. She would never be engaged to Cornell. She would die first.
Her heated gaze flashed from her mother’s tight-lipped, unsympathetic demeanor to the head of the table. Buck put his chin up and sent her an all-knowing, gentle smile. For a split second, she seriously considered telling her father, and everyone gathered to go take a flying leap off the nearest cliff. She managed to swallow down her ire. Taking a moment to compose herself, she reasoned it would be cowardly of her to leave the battlefield after the first volley of cannon fire.
She closed her ears to the conversation at the table and carefully placed her napkin in her lap, her fingers brushing against Gabe’s thigh. A lick of electricity tickled the tender flesh between her thighs. She cursed herself for not making good her escape when she had the chance. She should’ve left the moment Gabe released her from his embrace. Now she sat doomed and damned. This would not work. She had lost the battle before it had begun, but to retreat now would prove nothing.
And she did have something to prove. Not just to Gabe, but to her mother and father, and most of all, to herself. She was not a child. She was a woman, a woman who could make up her own mind, a woman who could comport herself and manage her own life in her own way. No, she could not run, not this time.
»»•««
Had everyone around here gone loco? Buck was all but drooling over Mrs. Millican, and now Curly-Birdie was engaged. Engaged to Cornell, not possible.
Gabe heard Edditha and her mother talking about something, something about keeping secrets, and the others laughing with them. He should be paying closer attention. But Gabe couldn’t hear over the voice in his head proclaiming Birdie, his Curly-Birdie, had engaged herself to the arrogant, rich, ridiculously handsome Cornell Norquist.
It couldn’t be. It wasn’t right. Not right at all, not his Birdie-Alice, sweet, funny, neck-or-nothing Curly-Birdie. Birdie-Alice wasn’t old enough to be anyone’s wife, certainly not Corney Norquist’s wife.
Corney didn’t want a wife. He wanted a prop, someone to show off to his father’s wealthy business associates. The so-called wife would have to be someone worldly who could host his parties, lead the Ladies Aid Society, and influence prospective clients. Birdie-Alice, the Birdie-Alice Gabe knew and loved, would make a hash of things in short order.
Both Jo and Birdie sounded strong opinions about a woman’s right to vote. Given the opportunity, Birdie would march up and down the street shouting and brandishing a banner demanding her rights. For certain, sooner or later she’d insult some old biddy with the blunt truth about her hat or take bets on who had the biggest bustle. In short, she’d make life miserable for a fat-head like Cornell Norquist.
Why would Cornell want Birdie-Alice?
Gabe would ask her, would tell her to look him in the eye and tell him what the hell she thought she was doing harnessing herself to someone like Cornell.
Beside him, he’d felt her stiffen when her father made the announcement. She sat there with her back up like a cat, eyes narrowed, ready to go for the jugular. Her hip was so close to his, he could feel the heat of her body even though they weren’t touching. Then her hand brushed his thigh, and his body responded with an instantaneous erection. The hell of it was, he wanted to put his hand on her leg. Hell, he wanted his hands between her legs.
Gabe sat there silent and detached from the laughter and conversation swirling around him. He had to get Birdie alone and hear what she had to say for herself. Did she love Cornell, the stiff-rumped ass?
He’d noticed Cornell hadn’t batted an eye. He’d nodded and smiled like a satisfied cat. The man hadn’t even held the chair out for Birdie, hadn’t acknowledged her at all. Hell, Cornell apparently could care less where she sat. Gabe didn’t think Cornell Norquist capable of loving anyone but himself.