“Don’t lie to me,” Webb stated and gave them both a hard, cold look. Suspicions were already forming in his mind. “You might as well admit it was Kreuger, and go ahead and tell me what he said.”
“He said something Shorty didn’t like, that’s all,” Slim insisted. “I’d better be gettin’ Shorty over to the bunkhouse.”
“What was it Kreuger said?” Webb demanded. Their secretiveness convinced him it was something he would find personally offensive. They would have openly admitted if it had been against the ranch or cowboys, but they were trying to keep the subject from him. “Was the remark aimed at my wife?”
Slim licked his lips and didn’t say anything, but Shorty spoke, as clearly as he could, “Da bastard was tellin’ lies.”
“Slim. What did Kreuger say?” Webb challenged.
“Just a bunch of crap about you messin’ around with her when she was still married and that you got shot by her husband. He was just callin’ both of you names. Shorty tried to shut him up and—” He stopped, looking uncomfortable. “Nobody listens to Kreuger He’s just a bag of wind.”
“Yeah.” It was a hard, dry word that confirmed what Webb had been suspecting. Anger burned slowly in him, gathering heat and gradually expanding to spread through his system.
Simon nodded to the cowboy to escort the injured man out of the room. This time Webb didn’t try to stop him, possessing enough details to fill in the rest of the story.
“You wouldn’t happen to have any good whiskey in the house, would you, Webb?” the doctor inquired. “I could use a glass—purely medicinal, of course.”
“There’s some in the den.” It was an offhand reply, given without actual thought to the subject. Webb was thinking about Franz Kreuger. His hands were tied. The drylander wouldn’t listen to reason, and the fight he’d had with him last fall obviously had made no difference, so it was futile to think he could silence him. Kreuger was going to continue to spread his malicious talk, and there was nothing Webb could do about it except keep it from Lilli if he could. “How’s Lilli?” As he asked the question, he was struggling to control his anger and frustration, removing his hat to rake a hand through his hair.
“She’s going to be fine.”
“What was wrong with her?” An inquiring eyebrow was lifted at the doctor.
“I’ll let her tell you.” Simon smiled faintly. “I’ll help myself to some of your whiskey while you go upstairs and see her. I know she’s been anxious for you to come home.”
Simon Bardolph lingered a moment in the living room to watch Webb Calder climb the stairs. There was a glimmer of envy in his eyes as he turned to walk to the den.
25
It was dawn. The entire eastern horizon seemed ablaze with the fiery orange light of the rising sun as it began its scorching track across the sky. According to the calendar, spring had come and gone, but the Montana land hadn’t known its green colors. The countryside was still wearing its brown mantle of hibernation, slumbering under its dead covering of dry grass in the middle of summer.
With a coffee cup in hand, Webb stood at the dining-room window and watched the sun come up through the dusty pane. The ever-constant dust was a chafing reminder of the drought that gripped the land. It weighted the air, refracting the sun’s rays and creating spectacular sunrises and sundowns. It seeped through cracks and left a film of powdery grit on the tops of furniture. Dusting was a futile chore, because an hour later, the grit would be back.
There had been a few times when clouds had darkened the sky and teased the dry air with a hint of moisture. Thunder had rolled in taunting chuckles and sheets of lightning had splintered from the thunder-heads. Then the gray clouds had briefly spit at the panting land and raced elsewhere to play their cruel tricks. Streams were dry and the rivers were shrinking.
All through spring and most of the summer, they had been constantly moving cattle. Webb couldn’t run the risk of grazing any section of the Triple C range down to bare earth, so they kept shifting the herds from one section to another. In between those times, the men were constantly checking on the range conditions in other areas, determining where the water supply was stable and where it was within reach of available graze.
Everything was paper-dry. The entire ranch, six hundred square miles of it, could go up like a tinder-box. All it would take was one spark. Smoking and campfires of any kind were forbidden. Patrols and fire watches had become part of the ranch routine. Where no natural firebreaks existed in a section, they were created.
Dust storms were becoming common. They came in a dark wall of wind that shut out the sun and prematurely darkened the sky. Dirt rolled into billowing clouds that hugged the ground, whipping along anything that wasn’t nailed down.
Webb tipped the coffee cup to his mouth and drained it. A wry slant tilted his mouth as his thoughts turned back to that evening so long ago when Bull Giles had warned him he’d always have to fight to keep the ranch. He had never expected to be involved in a full-scale war with Mother Nature.
He heard the clatter of horses approaching The Homestead, their iron-clad hooves thudding over stone-hard dirt. Turning from the window, he started to walk to the table to leave his cup and begin another day’s work. The s
ight of his sleepy wife entering the dining room stopped him.
Her auburn hair was loose and disheveled, lying about her shoulders in tousled disarray. There was a Madonna-like radiance about her sleep-softened features that reached out to him and gripped his throat with an aching tightness. Damn, but it was true. The pregnancy had made her more beautiful, more desirable. She was tying the sash of her robe, knotting it above the protruding bulge of her stomach.
“Good morning.” Leaving the cup on the table, he walked to her and let his arms circle her, gathering her in close. He kissed at her lips, feeling their pliant giving. His hands moved randomly over her shoulders and spine, enjoying the feel of her essentially slim body.
“The boys are outside.” Lilli could hear the familiar shuffle of hooves and chomping bits as she fingered the collar of his shirt, tracing its opening. “I thought I’d be able to have a cup of coffee with you before you left.”
“You make it hard for a man to leave his house.” He resisted the stirrings in his loins and withdrew his arms to take hold of her hands, kissing her white knuckles before letting them go. “You’ll take care of yourself?”
“Yes.” She smiled at him, amused by his persistent concern. “Ruth is coming over this afternoon so we can finish the quilts for the babies.” With Webb gone so much this summer and spring, Lilli had developed a close friendship with the blond-haired Ruth. It had started simply as a sharing of common concerns, since both of them were pregnant for the first time and their husbands were absent a great part of the day. It grew from there.
“I don’t like leaving you alone so much.” Especially now that she was approaching the end of her term.