Claude sat back and peered at Sterling again. “I’ll expect the final payment in no more than a week.”
“I appreciate it.” The fellow seemed fair enough. He’d likely given Mr. Berkley plenty of chances to pay off his debt. Even so, the world of gambling was a dangerous one, and Sterling would be relieved when the whole ordeal was over.
Sterling turned to go. He had a lot of work ahead of him over the next few days if he hoped to pay Claude the final three hundred.
Claude’s voice stopped him. “I don’t know why you helped Mr. Berkley. But I hope you don’t regret it.”
Sterling glanced at the saloon owner, reclining in his chair at the table. “I don’t.”
“You should know, that man will be back. Gamblers like him can never stay away.”
Sterling supposed the gaming table had a strong pull on some people. But Mr. Berkley wouldn’t have a dime to spend in five years. If the pull of the gaming table wasn’t broken in five years, then Sterling didn’t know what could ever break it.
Claude took a puff on his cigar and eyed Sterling. “You won’t be able to bail him out forever.”
Sterling hoped Mr. Berkley had also learned a lesson through his brush with death. Whatever the case, Sterling intended to use Beckett to toughen the man up and make an honest worker out of him. The ranch, the work, the long days in the saddle would be hard on a fellow who was accustomed to being in an office. But Sterling had faith Beckett would be able to reform Mr. Berkley.
“I’ll see you in a few days.” Sterling didn’t wait for Claude to say anything else and instead walked out of the saloon, got on his horse, and started back to the ranch.
He was in a hurry to return and urged his horse out of town at a gallop. All the while he rode, his mind kept pace. Would the reverend be there waiting? And if he was, what would they do about it?
As much as he wanted to push Violet forward with the wedding before she had a chance to change her mind and run away, a part of him knew he needed to consider abandoning the plans and sending the reverend home. He no longer had a valid reason for insisting on the marriage.
But strangely, his entire being was opposed to the prospect of cancelling the ceremony. The truth was, he wanted Violet any way he could have her, even if that meant they lived in a contrived marriage that was in name only.
Did that make him pathetic? Maybe. But he was desperate enough that he would do anything. If she was still willing, even though she no longer needed to go through with the wedding, that would be a good sign, wouldn’t it?
Even as he made excuses, they echoed with a familiar ring…because they were the same excuses he’d made before the first wedding, when he’d tried to tell himself it didn’t matter if she loved him less, if she wasn’t as invested in their marriage, if she didn’t want him as much.
He’d insisted his love could carry them both. But it hadn’t.
As he finally rode underneath the front gate of wrought iron with the Noble Ranch sign hanging overhead, he let himself take a full breath. Some of the ranch hands were fixing fences. A few others were working on a leaky spot on one of the barn roofs. The cattle were fenced in where they should be. And everything appeared to be back to normal.
The visit by Claude’s men could have ended much differently, with more destruction, injuries, and even loss of lives. Sterling had to count his blessings, especially that the women were safe and unharmed.
As he drew closer, he spotted a horse tied to a rail next to the barn—an old mare that didn’t belong to any of his ranch hands.
His heart gave an extra thud. The mare had to belong to the reverend.
Sterling didn’t waste time taking his horse to the barn and instead veered directly toward the house. At Sterling’s approach, Beckett stepped outside and headed down the steps.
“Well?” Beckett asked, his brow furrowed with worry.
“Claude agreed to the deal and gave me until the end of the week to get him the final payment.”
Beckett’s expression remained grim. “You’re gonna sell a dozen Durfords?”
Doing so would nearly deplete their stock of the prized cattle. Of course, they’d already had their breeding season earlier in the fall and had numerous cows that would deliver more Durfords in the spring…if all went well and no more died.
But still, selling the cattle wasn’t going to make the ranch more successful. It wasn’t a good business strategy. In fact, it was terrible. But he had to do it anyway.
Sterling dismounted and tossed the lead line over the porch railing. “Have the fellows separate out the beeves that are the thickest.”
“When we aiming to leave?”
“I’m going.” Sterling halted. “I need you here to keep an eye on things, make sure Claude doesn’t change his mind.”
Beckett twisted the piece of hay in his mouth. He didn’t protest, almost as if he’d expected the instructions.
