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"I don't know," Josh said, frowning. "I'm damn mad at Shane, but I don't want to do anything that might get me locked behind bars."
"You'd never get caught," Terrance said, smiling smugly. "Will you agree to help me?"
Josh stared down into his glass, then over at Terrance. "Naw, I don't think so," he said, shaking his head. "Let's just let things happen on their own. Shane knows nothing about farming. And Melanie will soon see the sort of man that he is. He'll leave again. It'll all be mine again. You'll see."
"God, Josh, you're even dumber than I thought," Terrance said. Disgusted, he got off his stool and lumbered from the saloon. Josh gaped openly after him, then ordered another bottle of whiskey and went to join a poker game.
Chapter Twelve
Someone cursing outside her bedroom door drew Melanie awake. She yawned sleepily, then winced when she heard the shattering of glass on the hardwood floor in the hallway, followed by more cursing. Her eyes rolled upward.
"Terrance," she groaned, knowing she would find a mess outside her door before the servants awakened. Her brother had returned home after his drunken bout in St. Paul and had more than likely brought another bottle of whiskey with him. In his whiskey-induced stupor he had dropped the bottle and broken it.
It would not be the first time, nor would it be the last.
Disgusted with her brother and now fully awake, Melanie rubbed sleep from her eyes and
got out of the bed. Slipping a robe around her shoulders, she went to the window and pulled aside the heavy, white satin drapery. She moaned. Her brother had spent the whole night tom-catting around. The rising sun was barely tipping the trees with its lustrous orange light. Occasional strips of black still colored the sky that was softening to a pale blue.
Leaning closer to the window, Melanie peered through the hazy morning light toward Shane's house in the distance. A tingling heat rose from her toes at the thought of him. She wondered if he had slept safely. Josh had probably been no threat after all. He had more than likely been with Terrance the full night. They were known to frequent the same saloons, the same brothels.
''They are both no good," Melanie whispered, flinching when she heard the loud bang of Terrance's door as he finally reached his room. "I've grown used to it. Will Shane be able to? Josh can be intolerable at times, especially after he's had a few too many drinks."
Now that she was awake and eager to start the day, Melanie threw her robe aside. Today she planned to spend most of her time with Shane. He needed to know so much! Not only how to read and write, but everything about cattle farming. She wanted to be there for him, to teach him everything. Hadn't he taught her some valuable lessons in the short time she had known him? He had taught her the true meaning of compassion. He had led her down the path of true romance.
Going to her armoire, Melanie ran her hands
through her clothes. She stopped at the fringed buckskin skirt. It was the most comfortable. She would wear it. She planned to spend some time on her horse today, and the buckskin skirt would give her more freedom of movement.
With no further thought of Terrance, Melanie hurried into her skirt and white, long-sleeved blouse, then yanked on her knee-high leather boots. After taking several quick strokes with a brush through her hair, she tied it back from her face with a yellow ribbon. Ready to challenge this new day, she left the room.
But when she stepped out into the hallway and saw the broken bottle and the whiskey spread across the golden grains of the wood floor, her anger at her brother returned. Tapping the toe of her boot on the floor, she looked toward Terrance's room. He could not get away with this careless behavior forever! Something had to be done to make him aware of just how disgusting he had become!
"I guess that little chore is mine," she whispered, stomping determinedly to Terrance's room.
Angrily, she jerked the door open, then shuddered with distaste when she saw her brother sprawled across the bed, still fully clothed. His snores reverberated around the room. The stench of alcohol was so strong, it made Melanie's stomach feel as though it were being turned inside out.
Terrance was sleeping on his stomach, his face turned toward her. A growth of whiskers was dark on his chin, but not dark enough to hide the lipstick that was smeared across his mouth and
cheek. His shirt was half unbuttoned and only partially tucked into the waistband of his breeches. His dark, tangled hair was sprayed across the bedspread.
"You had yourself quite a night, didn't you, big brother?" Melanie said beneath her breath. "You plan to sleep a good portion of the day away, don't you?" She looked toward the pitcher of water that sat beside the basin on his nightstand. "Well, we'll just see about that."
Melanie circled her fingers around the handle of the pitcher and lifted it from the table. Positioning it over her brother's head, she emptied the water from it onto his face.
Awakened with a start, Terrance yowled and bolted from the bed. His eyes were wild as he rubbed the water from his face. "Goddamn it all to hell, Melanie!" he screeched, looking at her through his fuzzy, drunken vision. "What'd you do that for?"
Melanie put the empty pitcher on the table and brushed past Terrance as she walked toward the door. "Seems I came in here for a drink and when I began pouring the water from the pitcher I just somehow failed to have a glass there to catch it," she said, smiling over her shoulder at him. "My, oh my, Terranceseems I've awakened you. I couldn't be sorrier. Why, look at you. You look like something the dogs dragged in."
Laughing, she left the room. She rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen. Grabbing a carrot for her horse and an apple for herself, she stepped out into the brisk morning air. Inhaling deeply,
she looked across the wide pasture at Shane's house. Was he awake also? Was he eager to see her? How soon would he come?
Going to the stable, she went to her horse's stall. "Good morning, Sugar," she said, offering her bay gelding the carrot. "And it will be a good morning. I'll be with Shane again!"
She led her horse from the stable and began brushing its mane, taking occasional glances at the road that led from Shane's house, to hers.
Sparrows were awakening and making a racket in the trees just outside Shane's bedroom window. This, and having to sleep another night on a mattress instead of on a soft pile of bear furs on the floor of his wigwam at the Chippewa village, made him awaken with a groan.
