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Webb was making his demands clear. “If my cousin still intends to buy this ranch, I want your promise, Blake, that you won’t step in ahead of him or interfere in any other way. If you’re as innocent as you say, that will be proof enough for me.”
“And if your cousin doesn’t want to buy the ranch?”
Webb shrugged. “Then it’s anybody’s game. Agreed?” Webb extended his hand to seal the promise.
Fury smoldered in Blake’s eyes, but he accepted the handshake.
“Fine.” Kristin moved back to Logan’s side and began wrapping him in the blanket for the move to the buggy. “Now let us get the major back to our house. We’ve got a spare room, and a closetful of medical supplies that my mother left. He’ll get the best possible care.”
“No.” Webb stood rooted in place, refusing to move. His hand rested lightly on the ivory grip of his pistol.
“Please, he needs care. I know he’s your relative. If you have any regard for him at all—”
“Of course I do. He’s my own flesh and blood. But I won’t have him going to your place, where you can do anything you want with him and fill his head with a lot of lies. We’ll take him to the Homestead in your buggy. If you’re so all-fired concerned about his welfare, you’re welcome to come inside and stay till he’s stronger. Then somebody can see you home.”
Clearly, Webb wasn’t going to back off. And Logan’s life was still in danger. The longer the delay, the more critical his condition would become. She needed to get him somewhere safe and clean and warm, where she could take care of him—even if it was the Calder mansion.
She gave her brother a pleading look. “Can you drive us there, Blake? Then you can take the buggy home. Please, a man’s life is at stake. We don’t have time for a standoff between you and Webb.”
Seething, Blake gave her a grim nod. With the tension between the two men as volatile as gunpowder, Kristin knew that it was up to her to take charge.
“I need to tend to the major’s tourniquet,” she said. “I’ll sit with him in the back of the buggy while Blake drives. Webb, you take the horses back to your house and meet us there. Have a bed ready and also some hot water and plenty of towels.”
Logan was hovering on the edge of laudanum-induced sleep. Kristin used the wrapping strips to make a sling, looping the cloth behind his neck and under his right arm to hold everything in place. Then she bundled his upper body in the blanket. “Help me get him to the buggy,” she ordered. “Now hurry!”
* * *
Mason Dollarhide studied the woman who sat across the room in the brocade-covered chair that had always reminded him of a throne. Although they’d exchanged occasional letters, he hadn’t set eyes on his mother since that night twelve years ago when she’d ordered him onto the train to save him from a forced marriage to a pregnant immigrant girl.
Amelia Hollister Dollarhide was still the queen of her ranch kingdom. But time’s bitter gifts had hardened her nature—the husband whose ambition had ended their marriage, the son who’d fled in disgrace, the lover who’d wearied of being her lackey. Now she was alone except for her dogs and her paid employees—a solitary monument to her own iron will.
“As I recall, Mason, I told you not to come home without a suitable bride,” she said. “Surely, it couldn’t have been that difficult.”
Mason shrugged. In all these years, nothing had changed. His mother wanted a daughter-in-law with money, manners, family connections, and a spotless reputation. The trouble was that Mason’s taste had never run to the kind of girl who’d keep her legs crossed until she had a ring on her finger. Besides, with so many ladies willing to fall into his bed, why should he tie himself to just one?
“I met your bastard the other day,” Amelia said. “He looks like a Dollarhide. Nobody would guess he was yours—not until they noticed his green eyes.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Mason said. “For all I know, there could be more of your grandchildren out there in the world. I never stuck around long enough to meet any of them. But chances are that I planted my seed in some fertile ground.”
“Oh, stop it!” To Mason’s amusement, she shuddered. He enjoyed needling her. It gave him a feeling of power over the woman who’d exercised so much control over his early life.
She picked up the crystal glass from a side table and sipped the wine the butler had poured for her. Her aging hand still wore the emerald ring Blake remembered.
“So what brings you home after all this time?” she asked. “It couldn’t be love.”
Mason lit a Cuban cigar, inhaled the mellow flavor, and blew the smoke out into the room. “Maybe I came back to help you manage my inheritance. You’re not getting any younger, Mother. Maybe it’s time to step back and enjoy your golden years. You could take up something like cross-stitch or china painting.”
“You’re joking!” She punctuated the words with a harsh laugh. “No, tell me why you’re really here. If it’s a loan you’re about to ask for—”
“Now that’s a low blow, Mother. I’m not asking you for a thing. In fact, I’ve done quite well for myself. What I’ve come for is to offer you a chance tomakemoney. And you won’t have to lift a finger. All it involves is the use of the barn for storage, and for you to sleep through any noises you might hear in the night.”
“And there’s money in that?”
“More money than you or I ever dreamed of.”
She raised her empty glass for another splash of wine, then sent the elderly butler out of the room. “Tell me more,” she said.
* * *
