If Ben hadn’t been there the night Slade Holt shot Feral Sloan, seven years ago, then he wouldn’t have been so leery of Luke Holt. But he had been there, had seen Slade shoot Feral as cool as you please and walk away without a moment of remorse. Slade Holt was a dangerous man. And this one just happened to be the very image of Slade. They were twins. It gave a man the willies.
A lot of folks in town liked Luke, were real taken with him. It wasn’t that they discounted the stories about Slade, it was just that they had met Lucas first, and while the brothers looked exactly alike, they were as different as night and day.
Lucas took something out of his pocket, frowned at it, then put it away. Ben had seen him do that twice now. The man didn’t look at all agreeable. Most times, he had a few pleasant words, but not today. He was downing whiskeys like water and looking agitated.
It had been some shock when Lucas came to town to stay nearly two years ago. Folks wondered why he chose Newcomb, but no one asked. No one came to settle in Newcomb anymore. Since the railroad had passed them by, it was a town everyone was wanting to leave. But Lucas Holt had come, buying the old Johnson ranch three miles out of town. He kept to himself and didn’t cause trouble. He was probably a likeable fellow if you got to know him, but Ben would never be friendly with Lucas. He would never be able to separate him from Slade.
Slade Holt had been back since Lucas settled there. He didn’t drift through often, but he sure gave people something to talk about when he did come. He always came into town after visiting his brother at his ranch. Folks just weren’t the same when he made an appearance. Everything quieted down. All fights were postponed until Slade went on his way again.
Hell, no one even had anything to say about the half-breed Lucas had working for him. Who would dare? Everyone had seen Billy Wolf ride into town with Slade. It wasn’t hard to tell they were friends. Slade had brought Billy Wolf to Lucas because the Indian was supposed to be an excellent horse catcher, and that’s what Lucas had started, a horse ranch. With all the trouble those renegade Apaches from the reservation were causing, the half-breed would have been thrown out of town if not for the Holt brothers. Because of them, no one even looked crossways at Billy Wolf.
Lucas moved over to the door once again, and this time when he came back, Ben couldn’t resist asking, “You waitin’ for someone, Mr. Holt? I couldn’t help noticing you keep lookin’ up the street.”
Lucas fixed his green eyes on Whiskers. “I’m meeting someone on the Benson stage.”
“You ain’t expectin’ your brother, are you?”
Lucas grinned at the anxious note in the saloonkeeper’s voice. “No, Whiskers, I’m not expecting my brother any time soon. I’ve got a bride coming today.”
“A…bride? If that don’t beat all! Well, if that don’t beat all!” Ben was too excited to be cautious. “Sam Newcomb will sure be glad to hear that.”
“Oh?”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Ben amended quickly. “But I reckon you know Sam ain’t been married too long, and I reckon you also knew his wife can’t seem to keep her eyes off you. Not that Sam’s a jealous man, mind you, but I reckon he likes to know what’s his is his. He’ll be mighty glad to know you’re gettin’ yourself settled down with a wife of your own.”
Lucas said nothing, but he was fuming. Ben had hit the mark. The very reason Lucas was here waiting to pick up his bride was Fiona Newcomb. He wouldn’t be in this fix if not for her. Oh, they had had some good times together when he first settled in Newcomb and she was still Fiona Taylor, operating the only boardinghouse in town. He had never led her to believe he was looking for anything besides a little fun. She, on the other hand, had wanted to get married! When he refused even to discuss it, she had turned her wiles on Samuel Newcomb.
Sam knew he had got Fiona on the rebound, and it ate away at him. Before Fiona, Lucas had had Samuel Newcomb right where he wanted him, on friendly terms. That was because of Slade. Ironic, but the rich man felt indebted to Slade for getting rid of Feral Sloan. The man had been a thorn in his side.
Things had all gone according to plan until Fiona. Because Lucas was from the East and had more money than could possibly have been obtained by horse ranching, Sam figured Lucas knew what he was talking about when he mentioned those few small investments. Did Sam want to get in on them? He did. And after those paid off, it was easy to talk Sam into the big investment.
They weren’t nearly finished with Newcomb, and now it wouldn’t be so easy to clean the man out. Sam’s friendly interest in Lucas had cooled because of Fiona. As Billy Wolf pointed out, Sam would never relax and be gullible again as long as Fiona had the hots for Lucas.
Still, Lucas never should have let Billy talk him into getting married. It had sounded sensible at the time, but he’d had a few drinks in him, and just about everything Billy said that night sounded reasonable.
“Newcomb will keep his eye on you as long as he knows she still wants you and there’s the chance you might take off with her. But if you get hitched, he’ll think you’ve settled down. He’ll quit worrying. As it is now, the way he has you watched, he’s going to start wondering soon how come you get so much mail from back East. If he ever gets the notion to find out what your dealings are, well, that’ll be the end. You have to get his eye off you right now, and marriage is the way.”
He didn’t want a wife. So what if, when he watched Billy and his wife, Willow, together, he sometimes got a yearning to have his own woman? It was just that life on a ranch was lonely. He wasn’t used to staying in one place, and an isolated place at that. He was used to having women whenever he needed them. When this was all over, he would want to move on, but how could he if he had a wife?
So Lucas had hedged. Instead of looking around the area for a woman who would know what she was letting herself in for, he had written his lawyer and had him place notices in the Eastern papers for a mail-order bride. It was his hope that the Eastern girl would be horrified when she saw what she was up against. He wanted her to insist he send her back—and he gladly would, after a reasonable time. That was the problem. He had to keep her there long enough to finish what he had started.
Having a preacher who came through town only every month or so would help. Just so long as Samuel Newcomb believed he was getting married, he had solved his problem.
He hadn’t told Billy that he had no intention of marrying the girl. With Billy and Willow there, and old Mack, too, the girl would be decently chaperoned, and no one could say anything about her staying at the ranch with Lucas before the preacher had his say.Shemight not like it, but then, Lucas figured, anyone desperate enough to turn herself over to a complete stranger couldn’t be too choosy. Besides, he intended to pay her well for her time and trouble. He meant for her leaving to seem entirely her own idea, so no one was going to be hurt by his deception.
He took the picture out of his pocket once more. If he’d realized how often he had done that in the last weeks, he would have been furious with himself. His eyes passed right over his intended “bride” and went to the other girl in the picture. That one posed regally, her shoulders thrown back, her small breasts pushed out. Her height gave her a queenly air, and there was a haughtiness to the set of her features. She looked skinny as a reed, yet there was something about her that had captured his interest from the first time he looked at the picture.
Lucas had just about settled on a girl from Philadelphia when Miss Hammond’s letter and picture arrived. He knew immediately that she was just what he was looking for. The clothes had done it, the quality of the clothes the three people in the picture were wearing. Those clothes spoke of wealth, and Lucas knew from experience that pampered rich girls knew absolutely nothing about hard work. Therefore, a rich girl would balk at the life he offered. He wasn’t at all disappointed that the girl happened to be the most beautiful of all the applicants he had considered. He couldn’t help wondering why a girl of Miss Hammond’s charms would be a mail-order bride.
He wouldn’t mind having a pretty face around for a while. But he had no intention of taking advantage of her, lovely or not. If she arrived a virgin, she would return East that way. Even if she wasn’t, he wanted no entanglements with her that might put ideas into her head, make her think she was honor-bound to accept him.
Lucas realized he was staring at the picture again, and he quickly put it away, annoyed with himself. He moved to the door again, but there was still no sign of the stage. He wondered what the city-bred Miss Hammond was thinking about the Arizona Territory, where the sun could bake you through and through, where you could ride for weeks without seeing another soul. He grinned. The trip had probably already decided her on going back. The time of year was on his side, for it was the middle of summer. The poor girl had no doubt fainted half a dozen times already from the heat. No, a wealthy, gently bred New York City girl definitely wouldn’t like it there.
Five
Sharisse waved her handkerchief through the air, hoping the wet cloth would cool a little before she brought it to her brow again, but it didn’t. She was appalled to be wiping herself with a piece of linen already soaked with perspiration, but there was no help for it. Her underclothes clung to her, as did her long-sleeved blouse, and the hair on her forehead and temples wouldn’t fit into the tight bun at her neck, so it clung, too.
She had given up worrying about her appearance. She had meant to tone down her looks anyway, to be sure she wouldn’t be accosted on the train, even borrowing a pair of glasses from one of the maids before leaving home. Those had long since been broken and discarded, but it didn’t matter, because she looked her worst, anyway.
