When they were on the raised boardwalk of the roadhouse porch, he felt the heavy tension lifting from the air. Lilli opened the door to the restaurant, paused a second to be sure Webb was behind her, then walked in. He noticed the angry sparkle in her eyes and wondered at it.
“Sit at that table.” She issued the command to Webb, which he obeyed by pulling out a chair at the table she had indicated. Before he had lowered his body onto it, she was giving sharp orders to the waitress to bring a basin of hot water and a cloth so she could clean and doctor his cuts. Webb was amused at the way she had everyone scurrying to do her bidding, intimidating them with her dictatorial attitude, but when he tried to smile, the action pulled at the long cut on his upper lip and started it bleeding again.
When everything had been delivered to the table, she began cleaning his small wounds. The touch of her hands was gentle, but Webb sensed the repressed anger that smoldered in her eyes. He watched her while she dabbed so carefully at his split lip, her concentration focusing on her task. Since Lilli was responsible for stopping the fight, Webb supposed she was upset because it had occurred at all. He attempted to explain the necessity for his violent action.
“If I had let him get by with treating you like that, there would have been no end to it, Lilli.” His words were slightly muffled by her continued ministrations to the cut on his mouth. “He brought the fight to me. If I hadn’t finished it—”
“I know,” she interrupted with a sharp acknowledgment of his reasons, which puzzled him more.
“I thought you were angry because I fought him,” he said.
“I am.” She rinsed out the cloth with brisk motions. “I wish I could have hit him. I wish I could have beat him up.” Her voice was thick with anger. “It’s the first time in my life I ever wished I was a man.”
His look became thoughtful, but he hid it behind a light remark. “I’m glad you’re not.”
She paused, a hint of concern lurking in her eyes. “I probably shouldn’t have stopped you, Webb. You don’t know Franz Kreuger the way I do. He’s the one that goaded Stefan into shooting you. If he hadn’t been there that morning, it wouldn’t have occurred to Stefan to react like that. I’m sure of it.”
“That’s in the past. We weren’t going to look back, remember?” Webb saw the tension in her face before she made a weak attempt at a smile in response.
“I remember,” she said, but silently reminded herself that it was not possible.
“Did you finish your shopping?” He changed the subject.
“Yes.” It seemed so long ago since she had supervised the loading of her purchases. Lilli tried to summon some of her previous enthusiasm to assure Webb that everything was all right, when she knew it wasn’t. “I found some blue material to make into a dress for Ruth’s wedding. I hope you’ll like it.”
His forefinger pressed against the cut on his lip, as if testing the degree of pain it caused, but the frown that creased his forehead didn’t come from that. “I hope Ruth knows what she’s doing.”
Her glance sharpened on him. “You sound as if you don’t approve of Virgil Haskell marrying her.”
His mouth slanted in a wry line that didn’t aggravate the cut. “Does any man approve of his sister’s choice for a husband?” Webb countered.
“I suppose not.” Lilli understood that Webb regarded Ruth Stanton as being family, so the reference to Ruth as a sister didn’t surprise her.
The door to Sonny’s place opened and Sheriff Potter crowfooted in. He spied Webb and angled toward his table. Taking his time, he removed his hat and used the seconds to warily take in Webb’s battered knuckles and bruised features.
“I got called over to the doc’s,” he said. “Kreuger’s got a busted nose and some broke ribs. He ain’t a pretty sight, but he’s all right.”
Webb let the information settle and made no comment. Whatever was on the sheriffs mind, it would be said without any prompting from Webb. He had no intention of defending his reason for the fight or his winning of it.
“The town’s hired me to keep the peace,” Potter stated. “I don’t like trouble.”
“That makes two of us,” Webb stated. “But Kreuger seems to have a penchant for it. So don’t talk to me about it.”
Potter listened to Calder’s voice, not caring about the words, but catching the certainty of the tone. The fight was spilt milk as far as he was concerned. The doc was cleaning up one and Calder’s bride of a month was wiping up the other. But the badge he wore on his shirt meant he was obliged to make an appearance in the name of law and order. Potter had his own version of his responsibilities. In the long run, it was safer and cheaper to let men settle their own differences. As long as nothing was stolen, and women and children weren’t harmed, it wasn’t any of his affair. He’d learned that justice had a way of asserting itself. It was a lot easier than trying to figure out for himself who was right and who was wrong.
“I’ll be speaking to him,” Potter said, meaning Kreuger. He glanced at Calder’s bride, fully aware she had been married to Kreuger’s best friend, and made his own guesses about the cause of the fight. He nodded to her politely. “G’day to you, ma’am.” With a total lack of haste, he put his hat back on and walked to the door.
Ruth’s wedding took place shortly after the New Year. The simple ceremony was held at The Homestead, with the ranch families in attendance. Ruth was white and trembling as she made her vows. Her eyes were dry, all the tears shed months ago. Later, when Webb congratulated her, she even managed to smile.
A winter wedding was the perfect excuse for the cowboys to cut loose and celebrate, making Ruth’s wedding day and evening anything but quiet. Despite the cold and snow, she and her new husband were shivareed by the rowdy and celebrating ranch hands that came to drag them out of the house they would be sharing with her father and parade them through the wintry night. Lilli and several other of the wives had prepared refreshments for the occasion, so it was well after midnight before the party broke up.
Ruth was certain it had been the longest day of her life. The gold band on her finger still felt strange and cold. She glanced at Virg as he shut the door on the last of his friends, and knew she was cheating him. Her gaze dropped when he looked at her, and she began a busy attempt to straighten up the room.
“The place is a mess,” she murmured when he came up and took hold of her hands to stop her.
“You’ll have plenty of time to clean it tomorrow,” he insisted. “I think we should follow your father’s example and call it a night.”
She glanced at the door to her father’s bedroom where he’d gone more than twenty minutes before. When Virg began to lead her to the door of the second bedroom—their bedroom—she didn’t resist. It was a small room, barely large enough for the big feather bed and the mirrored dresser.