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“But that isn’t wrong.” She frowned. “That’s just being ambitious.”
Smiling faintly, Benteen brushed the blades of grass off his glove and put an arm around her slim shoulders. “Ambition is a kind of greed, too.” They left the horses to walk in the direction of the crudely built shack. “It just sounds better.”
The subject made her uncomfortable, even though she understood what Benteen was saying. A fine line separated greed and ambition. One was a virtue, and the other was not. And ambition could easily beget greed.
Lorna turned her thoughts to a more positive topic. “You said you had the site picked out where we would build our house,” she reminded him. “Where is it?”
“Do you see that knoll just ahead?” Benteen pointed to the sloping rise of ground they were heading toward. “That’s where we’ll have our house.”
“A two story house, painted white,” she added details to the dream image.
“With white pillars in front.” He seemed to tease her.
“Yes, with pillars in front,” Lorna agreed with a decisive nod, because it sounded so grand, and she didn’t care that he was making fun of her. She turned the tables on him. “After all, it has to be a fitting structure if it’s going to be the home of the Calder Cattle Company.”
His throaty chuckle warmed her. When they reached the top of the knoll where their future home would be built, Benteen turned to study the view, the arm around her shoulders turning Lorna as well. The increase in elevation allowed them to overlook the sweeping bend of the river and the rolling expanse of plains.
“We’re going to be pushed for time, with winter coming,” he said. “The best we can do is throw up a log cabin near the river so we can be close to a water supply. But you’ll have your house, Lorna. If not this year, then soon.”
“After almost five months of living in a wagon, even a cabin sounds good,” she admitted.
“There’s a lot we have to get done before winter sets in. We have to build a shed for the horses we’ll be keeping here to use, and a longhouse where the men can sleep and eat.” While he formulated his plans aloud, she listened to its scope and wondered how it could be done in such a short time.
While they waited for the herd to come, Benteen made constructive use of the time. He staked out the locations for the various ranch buildings and paced out their dimensions, putting Lorna to work gathering broken tree limbs for stakes.
She was carrying an armload when she noticed the horse and rider pause to eye the rude camp and its occupants before resuming their approach. There was something familiar about the rider, yet Lorna was positive it wasn’t one of the drovers. Without taking her gaze off the rider, she partially turned her head to call to Benteen. “There’s someone riding in. A stranger, I think.”
Benteen straightened and turned to face the rider, casually unhooking the leather strap over the hammer of his holstered gun. He moved to stand beside Lorna.
As the rider came close enough for Lorna to see his face, her mouth opened in surprise. “It’s Mr. Giles,” she said to Benteen, but he had already recognized him and his gaze had narrowed with suspicion.
After the meeting with Barnie Moore, Lorna remembered the deceptive appearance she made in the clothes she was wearing. She could tell Bull Giles was trying to place her by the way he was studying her. She hid a smile and took off her hat, letting her dark hair tumble loose to fall about her shoulders. Amusement danced in the big man’s eyes as his look swept over the slim fitting pants that showed the length of her legs.
He greeted her first. “I told you we might meet again, Mrs. Calder.”
“You did, Mr. Giles,” Lorna admitted. “But I didn’t think you meant in Montana.”
“I thought you’d be in Texas.” Benteen picked up on her comment.
“It’s been a few years since I was up here. I thought I’d take a look around.” Bull Giles made it sound like a casual decision. His gaze traveled past them to the shack and the rude corral of sticks. “This is your claim, huh?”
“That’s right.” Benteen’s head was tipped in silent challenge.
“Grass, water, enough broken country for shelter in the winter.” Bull Giles enumerated the merits of the rangeland Benteen had chosen. “It’s not bad.”
“That’s what I thought.” Benteen remained aloof.
“I told Boston it was like this up here,” the man stated.
“Are you here on Boston’s orders?” Benteen questioned.
Bull Giles gave a mild shrug. “He indicated a curiosity about your destination. I guess he wanted to make sure you were out of his hair.”
“I told him my plans. When you see him, you can mention that I don’t like my word being questioned.” Benteen remained stiffly alert, not relaxing his guard with this representative from the Ten Bar.
“You and Boston don’t exactly get along too well.” Bull smiled when he voiced the observation. “I don’t think he’s going to look on you with much favor when he finds out you signed his name, authorizing me to pay twenty head of steers as toll to those Indians.”
“He just paid back some of what he took from my pa,” Benteen replied.
