When he was in the saddle again, he angled the horse toward the southeast. He knew where he was going now, the destination that had been in the back of his mind all along. He pushed the horse into a ground-covering lope and watched the landscape for a long strip of barren earth.
Perspiration trickled down her neck. Lillian paused in the hoeing of her garden to wipe at it with the hem of her apron. A movement in the distance caught her eye. Thinking it might be Stefan coming back from Franz Kreuger’s place, she stopped to take a closer look. He had said he doubted if he would be home until the afternoon, but it was possible they had finished the plowing sooner than he had expected.
But there was just one horse, not a team. And it was being ridden, not driven, so it couldn’t be Stefan. More than that, he was riding diagonally through the young wheatfield. Stefan would never risk damaging the young stalks. Lilli gripped the hoe with both hands as she tried to identify the rider.
The shantylike building belonged to the bleak landscape, churned and stripped of its protective grass. A wagon stood in front of it, but Webb noted that the corral was empty of the horse team. His eyes searched the land without finding any sign of horse and plow. He was about to conclude there was no one about when he saw a figure on the south side of the shack. From a distance, the dark color of her dress had blended in with the landscape. Hatless, her dark hair glinted with the sun’s fire. Something tightened inside him.
She watched his approach, but didn’t come forward to greet him even after he stopped his horse. There was a wariness in her look, a hint of distrust that he hadn’t seen in her eyes before. Still, she didn’t speak. The custom of the range was to invite a man to step down from his horse, but she made no offer.
“Could you spare some water for my horse?” Webb broke the silence with his terse request.
“There’s some in the barrel.” She motioned to the wagon box.
He curtly nodded his thanks and swung out of the saddle to lead his horse to the wagon. Out of the corner of his eye,
he was conscious that she followed him, as if she thought he intended to steal something. She gripped the hoe like a weapon.
Since she didn’t offer him the use of a bucket, Webb took off his hat and ladled a couple of dipperfuls into the upturned crown. When he turned to offer the water to his horse, he was facing her. His glance slid over her and back to the horse as it buried its nose in the hat to suck up the water.
“Did you get your basket home safely?” He baited her with the memory of the incident, feeling someone owed him an apology.
“Yes.” She watched him as if she expected him to sprout horns any minute and was ready to chop them off with her hoe if he did. She tipped her head slightly to one side. “You’re Mr. Calder’s son, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” The horse had drunk its fill, and Webb used the moment to empty the rest of the water from his hat. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your last name, Mrs.—” He put biting emphasis on her marital status and moved leisurely to the left side of his horse as if to mount it, but the action brought him within two feet of her.
“Reisner. Mrs. Stefan Reisner,” she said without a trace of guilt or regret.
“Is your husband about?” His gaze made another arc around the homestead.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Just wondered.” Webb brought his attention back to her. Then he looked down to her left hand. “You aren’t wearing a wedding ring,” he accused.
“No, I’m not.” Her gaze faltered under the level study of his. “Stefan and I decided we would rather use the money to come out here than buy a ring.”
This time he looked away, struggling against the anger he felt. “You knew that I thought you were single, Lilli,” he muttered in a thick, rough voice. “You should let a man know such things before he goes making a fool of himself.”
“Our acquaintance has been brief, Mr. Calder—” She was a little pale suddenly.
Webb cut across her defense. “The other day you were ready enough to call me Webb. Have you forgotten that?” he challenged. “And you didn’t raise any objections when I called you Lilli.”
“The other day I also didn’t know you were the man who threatened Mr. Kreuger and his family,” she retorted just as swiftly.
“I never threatened that belligerent little farmer,” he denied angrily. “I spoke to him, yes, but he was the one who began ranting about having a gun and being willing to use it to protect his family.”
Despite his disclaimer, there was still doubt in her eyes. “That isn’t the way he told it.”
“And you’d believe him before you’d believe me,” he snapped. “All I did was warn him that it was going to be rough on his family living in these conditions.” He gestured toward the shack to make his point.
Her chin came up. “It’s just until next year; then we’re going to build a real house.”
When he’d ridden up, he’d noticed the partially dug hole on the other side of the house. “And I suppose you’re going to sink a well so you can have water.”
“Yes. Mr. Kreuger is going to come over and help after Stefan finishes helping him plow his ground.”
With an effort, he controlled his exasperation and attempted a patient explanation. “Ranches in Montana have been called chunks of dry ground with a water right to go with it. You don’t even have that. You aren’t going to find any water. Or if you do, it’s going to be so thick with alkali you won’t be able to drink it.”
“You don’t know that.” She resisted his prophecy.