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“I put it in the last report.” Janes stiffened at the implication he didn’t have the authority to do it without Judd Boston’s okay.
Benteen finished his whiskey. “In your next report, give him my regards.”
“Why don’t you wait until spring, then you can deliver them in person?” Loman Janes suggested with a cool smile.
Covering his surprise, Benteen eyed the Ten Bar foreman. “Boston is coming here? Why?”
“He’s going to open a bank,” Janes informed him. “With all these Texans coming up here, he thought they’d rather do business at a bank owned by a fellow Texan than with these Yankees.”
“As I recall, Boston was a Yankee himself when he came to Texas,” Benteen remarked cynically. “Now he’s claimin’ to be a Texan, huh?”
“He’s lived there longer than most,” Janes defended the claim.
“I guess he has.” Benteen stepped away from the bar and nodded to Fat Frank. “Thanks for the whiskey.”
“Come back anytime and bring your wife,” the owner invited.
Out of the corner of his eye, Benteen saw Bull Giles reach for the whiskey bottle that sat on the small table. The timing of it came right on the heels of the reference to Lorna. The big man still coveted his wife, which made Benteen wonder why Giles hadn’t been around the ranch pestering her. But whatever was keeping the man away, Benteen wanted it to stay that way.
As he rode from the store, the cantering of his horse’s hooves seemed to drum out the name Judd Boston. A Texas bank in Montana. It was a brilliant move. The man would end up making money on every outfit up here, not just his own. Benteen had to give the man credit. He was a smart and shrewd businessman. like him or not.
21
The winter was a mild one. The warm, dry chinook wind that came from the eastern slopes of the Rockies was blowing across the plains, melting the snow and exposing the cured grasses to the grazing cattle.
It was dark when Benteen rode into the ranch after taking supplies to Shorty out at one of the line camps. He unsaddled his horse and the packhorse, turning both of them into the corral. As he walked to the cabin, he studied the curling ribbon of smoke bending over to be whisked into the night by the chinook.
When he entered the cabin, Lorna was balancing a fussing little Arthur on her hip while stirring a pot on the stove. Webb was hanging on her skirt and sobbing. Benteen noted the harassed and impatient look on her face and smiled as he turned away to remove his coat.
“What’s the problem, Webb?” He crossed the room, rolling up his shirt sleeves to wash his hands.
But his older son wailed louder and tried to climb up Lorna’s skirt. “He wants me to hold him.” Lorna irritably tried to push the little boy away from the hot stove.
It seemed dark in the cabin. Benteen glanced around and realized only one lamp was lit. “How come you haven’t lighted the other lamp?” He poured water in the basin and reached for the chunk of lye soap.
“The kerosene’s getting low. I’m trying to make it last.”
“I’d like to see what I’m eating. Light it anyway and I’ll ride over to Fat Frank’s tomorrow or the next day and pick up some more.”
“Webb, you’re going to get burned if you don’t keep away from this stove. Who is Fat Frank?” Both sentences came all in one breath, without a break in between.
“It’s that little general store east of here.” Benteen wiped his hands and glanced over to see his whimpering son still hovering close to the hot stove. “Can’t you make your son do what he’s told?”
“And hold little Arthur and cook your supper all at the same time, I suppose,” Lorna flared, and dropped the spoon in the pot, leaving it unattended. “I’ll just let supper scorch.” She plunked a fussing Arthur in his cradle, and he immediately let out an ear-piercing wail. She smacked Webb on his bottom and sat him on a chair, where he immediately began crying in earnest. Pausing, she lit the second lamp and set it on the table with an abruptness that made the glass chimney rattle. There were angry words in the look she sent Benteen as she swept past him to the stove.
“Is something wrong?” He tried hard not to smile at her display of temper.
“You never mentioned anything about a general store east of us, certainly not a man named Fat Frank.”
“Didn’t I?” He quirked an eyebrow in mild surprise, then shrugged and laid aside the towel he’d dried his hands on. “It must have slipped my mind. The place went up just this last fall.”
“A lot of things have been slipping your mind lately.” Lorna began dishing food onto the plates and setting them on the table. Webb was still crying. She shoved a spoon in his hand and pushed him closer to the table. “Be quiet and eat.”
Sitting down, Benteen waited until she had returned to the table with the wailing one-year-old in her arms and sat down with him. “What things have been slipping my mind?” he asked.
“Everything.” It was an all encompassing answer as she forced a spoonful of food into Arthur’s mouth. “I don’t know anything that goes on anymore. You have men working for you that I’ve never even met. You don’t tell me anything that’s going on.”
“I didn’t realize I was supposed to introduce you to every new hand I hired.” He frowned. “Considering that
