Open range near Lawton Ranch
Montana Territory
June 25, 1882
“Shit.”
Dean Lawton swept his Stetson off his head and smacked it against his thigh. It was only morning, but the sun’s rays were already hot enough to cause perspiration to soak into the collar of his shirt and bead across his brow.
It wasn’t the heat of the summer sun that had his blood boiling, however.
He had been heading home after spending the last couple weeks out on the range. He rarely got away from his office and all the responsibilities that kept him close to the ranch, but the long days of riding had been exactly what he’d needed to clear his head after a big fight with his brother over mail-order brides, of all things. He’d been reluctant to come in, but tomorrow was his monthly trip to town for supplies and news.
He’d still been a few hours out from the homestead when he’d come upon what could only be described as a scene of senseless slaughter.
Nearly a half dozen cattle killed and left to rot on the open prairie.
Dean scanned the devastation, one hand clenched into a fist.
Cattle rustling was not uncommon. It was an expected risk when herds were allowed to roam freely over thousands of acres with only a distinct brand declaring what ranch they belonged to. But rustling was done for profit. The stolen cattle were taken and rebranded so they could quickly be sold at market before their loss was noted.
This was different.
The murderous destruction Dean was looking at churned his stomach. It served absolutely no purpose. And it wasn’t the first time. Worse yet, if his suspicions about who was responsible were correct, it likely wouldn’t be the last.
Dean swung down from his horse to walk among the carcasses, surveying the violence up close. He didn’t expect to find any of the animals alive, but he felt the need to check every one anyway. Maybe he’d finally find some evidence—some solid proof—and he’d know for sure whether his suspicions were correct.
Please, God, let me be wrong.
His men were all beginning to wonder what Dean intended to do to stop the killings. And perhaps more importantly, why he hadn’t done anything yet.
He shoved his fingers through his hair and squinted against the sun as he looked out over the open range.
Always decisive on matters regarding the ranch, Dean knew his hesitation was sure to make his men speculate. As boss, he couldn’t afford to lose their confidence or respect. But the matter of the slaughtered cattle was not something for which he had a ready solution. Especially not if Anne’s family really was behind it all.
Sick with anger over the senseless killing, Dean turned away from the violent scene. He’d have to get some men out here to see to the carcasses. Leaving them would risk the spread of disease and discord—neither of which he could afford right now. He’d lost too much of his livestock already. And his lack of forthrightness in dealing with the matter had put the confidence of his men at risk.
Setting his hat firmly back on his head, he mounted his horse and rode hard the rest of the way home, whatever peace he’d managed to find out on the open range long gone.
* * *
The next morning, as Dean hitched up the wagon for the ride into town, the thundering hoofbeats of an approaching rider had him looking up to see his brother heading toward him.
The last time he and Randall had been face-to-face, they’d nearly come to blows—something that hadn’t happened since they were kids. Time to himself had gotten Dean past his anger, but he’d been on edge since finding the dead cattle. If his brother knew what was good for him, he’d avoid any mention of brides.
Dean finished hitching the wagon just as Randall drew his horse to a stop alongside him.
The younger man tipped his Stetson back with his thumb as he leaned forward and gave Dean a wide grin. “Still mad at me?”
“What do you want, Randall?” Dean asked as he checked the girth on each of the horses.
His brother sighed. “Pilar said I needed to apologize for butting my nose into your business. I know I got your dander up with my little suggestion, but you had to know it was made with good intentions.”
“I don’t need your good intentions. I need you to mind your own damn business.”
“You are still mad.”
Dean scowled before turning away to jump up into the front of the wagon. He wasn’t mad, but if Randall kept it up, he’d likely get there.
“Shit, Dean. You can’t go on like this forever, you know.”
“Like what?”
“All ornery and serious. You need a little happiness in your life.”
“I’m happy enough.”
“Bullshit.”
Dean gave his brother a hard look. He knew where Randall was coming from, and deep down he appreciated it, but dammit—he didn’t need him interfering. Dean had his own way of doing things. He liked his way of doing things.
“I still think it’s a good idea,” Randall insisted.
“It’s a terrible idea.”
“Getting married changed my life for the better.”
“My life is fine the way it is,” Dean countered. “You should know the last thing I’d ever do is order some fancy Eastern woman out of a catalog like she was some spare part for a plow. What were you thinking?”
“Well, it’s not like there are a whole lot of women around here to choose from,” Randall argued. “I’m lucky I found Pilar down in Texas.”
“I don’t. Want. A wife,” Dean said with a growl of frustration as he flicked the reins to start the wagon in motion. “And I’m not gonna keep having this same damned argument.”
Randall looked like he wanted to push the issue, but shockingly, he didn’t.
As Dean drove away, Randall called out from behind him. “Oh, hey! I almost forgot. Can you pick up a special package for me at the post office? You’ll know it when you see it.”
Dean gave a nod but didn’t bother looking back. Instead, he kept his gaze focused down the long dirt drive that took him to the main road into town. Long prairie grass waved gently alongside him and the scent of wildflowers drifted on the summer breeze, but Dean was too irritated to take much notice of the land he’d loved all his life.
It was long past time for Randall to give up on the crazy idea that Dean needed a wife.
He had Lawton Ranch. It was his responsibility to ensure that his granddad’s legacy remained as prosperous going into the future as it had been in the decades before Dean took over. With the issue of the slaughtered cattle requiring resolution, Dean had more than enough to deal with right now.