He waited until nearly the last minute to slow, then leapt from his horse, rifle in hand. Had he been carrying a gun before? Probably in his scabbard, but definitely not in hand.
All the trappers studied him, and a few shifted away from the fence for a better look. A new tension thickened the air. Not quite animosity, but definitely wariness.
Mr. Mason stopped a few strides in front of the others, feet braced, shoulders squared as though facing an enemy.
Before he could speak, another voice rose from the trappers. “Well if it ain’t the fellow from the trading post. Mason be your name, right?”
Horace McGill. His young, slightly high-pitched voice broke the tension. He stepped forward from the back of the group and stood to the side, partway between Mr. Mason and the others. “Fellas, this is the trader I was telling you about.” Then to Mr. Mason. “This here is Johnson, the one in charge of our party. And there’s Sloan and Timmons and Wahlberg and Linton...” She tried to follow along with the names as he pointed out each man, but she lost track.
Her gaze wandered to Mr. Mason, who was looking ather instead of the men he was being introduced to. Their eyes locked, and the intensity in his focus didn’t at all match the way he’d looked before. Neither the businessman nor the friendly neighbor.
The darkness sparking now looked protective. Determined. Almost feral.
Mr. McGill finished his introductions, and Mr. Mason’s focus swung to the men. “I’m glad to find you all here together. You’ve likely looked your fill of this unusual buffalo Miss Collins has taken in. As you can see, the animal is quite young, and these women have their hands full. For that reason, they will not be accepting visitors. Please spread the word and give this place a wide berth yourselves. If any man has questions, you can send them to me at the trading post. These women are not to be bothered.” His unspokendo I make myself clear?rang loudly in the silence.
The leader, Johnson, stepped forward. Not a big step, but enough to gain every eye among them. When he spoke, his voice drawled slowly, yet a seriousness hung in his tone. “I reckon you’re trying to be neighborly. But I also reckon this ain’t your place to butt in. Being a newcomer in these parts, you won’t know that my boys are plenty respectful. They won’t hurt these women or that calf. We just came to pay a visit and gander at this unusual fellow.”
His posture relaxed, though his words seemed to grow even heavier. “I think you’ll find a lot of the men in this part of the country will want to do the same. And one lone shopkeeper won’t gainsay them. Not just white men neither. The Indians, they think it has special powers, do you know that? I can tell you now, it’ll be best to let them look their fill before moving on. They won’t mess with these gals as longas the white buffalo calf is here. Can’t risk losing everything if they make it angry.”
Lorelei didn’t dare breathe as the man finally stopped speaking. A lot of men would come look at this calf? And Indians too? These men must be planning to tell anyone and everyone they met.
Which raised the question, how did this group hear? Mr. Mason and Mr. Burke were the only ones to know, except for Ol’ Henry and Dragoon. And her sisters and White Horse. So one of them must have mentioned it. Perhaps only an innocent comment in passing, and the novelty or intrigue had made the news spread.
What would they do if a line of men began appearing at all hours of the day? Rosie would be beside herself. Probably wouldn’t leave the ranch yard so she could stay here and defend them.
For that matter, White Horse might do the same. He wasn’t as vocal about his protection, but he stayed close any time there was a sign of danger. His presence certainly made them feel safe too.
As Mr. Mason’s did now.
He and Johnson studied each other, likely taking the other’s measure. Johnson had called him a lone shopkeeper, which must feel like an insult to a man as virile as this rifle-wielding defender.
At last, Mr. Mason said, “I hope that’s true.” Then his gaze shifted to the rest of the men. “If you’ve looked your fill, you’ll be ready to head on now.”
A few voices murmured through the group, then most of the trappers turned and nodded toward her and Faith.
“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“Nice little calf there.”
“Sure am glad you ladies brought civilization to the West.”
They finally meandered toward their mounts grazing on the other side of the barn. Mr. Mason didn’t move from his position, but he did return the farewell nod from Johnson as the trapper followed his men.
The knot in her own belly still didn’t ease.
five
As the trappers rode away from the ranch, Mr. Mason finally turned and strode toward her and Faith. Lorelei tried to read his serious expression. Maybe ... distracted? Concerned? Frustrated? Or something altogether different.
He didn’t talk immediately, so she broke the tense silence. “Thank you for speaking up for us.”
His mouth pinched. “It doesn’t sound like it did any good.” He eyed Curly. “I can’t come riding over every time a fellow shows up to gawk. You mightneedto sell him.”
Her insides plummeted. Was he using this situation to intimidate her into handing the calf over to him? Just when she’d been thinking charitable thoughts about him. “We are very capable of protecting ourselves. Thank you for your interest in our welfare, but it isn’t needed. A few visitors coming to see the calf certainly isn’t reason enough to hand him over to the highest bidder.”
His lips tightened again, as if he was preparing some kind of retort. Better she send him on his way instead of wasting time arguing.
She glanced toward his horse. “Did you have a purpose in coming other than to deliver milk?” The flask hung from his saddle, but he’d made it clear delivery wouldn’t be a regular offering.
