She knew better, but she kept the knowledge to herself. “What does the sheriff say?”
“It happened outside of town. He says there is nothing he can do.” There was a harshness in his voice, reminiscent of Franz Kreuger, that implied the response was what they should have expected. “The sheriff can protect us only vhen ve are in town. Ve must protect ourselves and our property. The next time ve go to town, Franz is going to come, too, and help me buy a gun.”
Stefan. Kind, gentle Stefan with a gun. It was so absurd Lilli wanted to laugh, but she couldn’t because she knew he meant to do it. What really frightened her was the thought he might use it. She wished she could wear blinders like a horse and not see or know any of this.
“Come. You must eat some more.” He offered her another spoonful.
She wondered if her suddenly nauseated stomach would tolerate another swallow of the bland gruel. “Stefan, please, you don’t have to treat me like an invalid anymore. I’m capable of feeding myself.” With new forcefulness, she reached for the bowl and the spoon. “You have spent so much time looking after me that you must have gotten behind in your work.” When he hesitated, Lilli added, “I promise I’ll eat every last bite.”
“All right.” He finally smiled and relinquished his possession of the bowl and spoon. “I vill let you chase me back to vork.”
After he’d left the one-room shack, she let the bowl rest on her lap and stared at the wide patch of sunlight on the floor. Gleaming dust particles danced in the light spilling through the window.
It was July and she felt cold. There were changes going on inside herself that she didn’t want to happen.
Even Stefan was becoming different. She pressed her fingers to her lips, feeling them. A man had kissed her, and she hadn’t told her husband. She hadn’t told Stefan she was alone with Webb Calder, even though he was being falsely accused of starting the fire. Why? Because his kiss had made her feel things that were wrong.
During those terrifying moments at the fire, it was his voice, his arms, the feel of his body pressing on hers, that kept her link with sanity. By not mentioning it, she had let Stefan believe it had been his strength and comfort she had relied on. She had vowed to be a good wife to him. She had to keep that vow.
Webb’s spurs made a dull clanking sound with each striding step as he crossed the hardwood floor of the entryway to the den. His father was seated behind the big desk, going over the ledgers. Webb removed his hat and combed his fingers through his hair as he approached the desk.
“Barnie said you wanted to see me.” He kept his hat at his side, tapping it slightly against his leg in a small show of impatience at the summons.
“Yes, I did.” The big chair groaned as his father leaned his weight against the back and ran a calm eye over Webb. “I’ve decided that I’m not going out on the roundup this fall. I want you to take my place and supervise the operation for me.”
“Barnie is more qualified than I am. Why don’t you ask him or Ely?” Webb stiffened at this sudden thrusting of authority onto his shoulders.
There was a moment of absolute silence. Benteen glared at Webb with open irritation, but appeared to make an attempt to control his anger. “If I wanted Barnie or Ely, I would have asked them to take charge of it. Dammit, I want my son heading the roundup,” he declared roughly.
“Is that an order?” Webb asked.
The corners of Benteen’s mouth turned down, forming a hard, grim line. “No.” His father dropped his gaze from Webb. “It isn’t an order.” There was a stubborn streak in him that wanted Webb to accept the responsibility without being ordered to do it. “That’s all I wanted. You can leave.”
As Webb started to put on his hat, he noticed his father press a hand to his chest and hold it there. He paused, his eyes sharpening in concern. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” It was an irritable retort, but the hand was slow to come away. “My chest has been bothering me since the fire,” his father offered in grudging explanation. “I guess I got too much smoke in my lungs. It just hurts now and then, but it goes away.”
Webb gripped and ungripped at his hat. He was of half a mind to tell his father he’d changed his mind about taking over the roundup. The Old Man did look tired. He’d probably rest easier if he thought Webb was in charge. Webb also knew that Barnie and Ely both would be shadowing him to make certain he didn’t make any mistakes. That was the irritating factor about accepting, knowing the two men would be supervising him. They were just “letting” him be in charge.
“The word is going around that the fire was started deliberately,” his father mentioned in passing.
“Where’d you hear that?” Webb frowned.
“Somebody picked it up in town.” He shrugged to indicate an indefinite source. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it was true.”
“What makes you say that?” His eyes narrowed.
“There’s a lot of cowboys out of work, and a lot of hard feelings between them and the drylanders. It sounds like the kind of cruel prank a cowboy might pull after he’s had a couple drinks.”
The remark prompted Webb to recall something that hadn’t seemed significant before. “Hobie Evans and two Snake M boys left the dance early. It was less than an hour after that the smoke was seen.”
“Hobie’s got a streak of mean in him.” He paused to look at Webb. “Every man does. It’s just a question of how wide it is. You might want to keep that in mind.”
“Why?” He found that curious advice.
“So you don’t underestimate someday what the opposition’s capable of doing,” his father replied and turned his attention to the opened ledger on his desk.
It seemed a cryptic warning. Webb pushed it to the back of his mind where it lingered as he left the big house to resume his day’s work.