Widow Woman by Patricia McLinn Read Free Book Online Page A

protuberant pale eyes stared. “I simply ask because some might think there are prospects for gold in the higher elevations, and if you are entertaining such hopes, Mr. Wallace does not want you to be disappointed."
    Nick didn't believe Mr. Wallace—or Mr. Armstrong—gave a damn for his disappointments. The banker wanted to know what he wanted the land for. And that likely had more to do with Thomas Dunn than Mr. Wallace of Baltimore.
    "I'll take my chances. Wallace take my offer?"
    "No. He wrote that your offer of eight thousand—Where are you going?"
    "You answered. I'm leaving."
    "But don't you want to hear what Mr. Wallace wrote?"
    "I heard. He said no."
    "But there's more.” Armstrong held up two sheets of closely written paper. He met Nick's look and let the papers drop to his desk. “All right, the sum of it is, he's made a counteroffer."
    "How much?"
    "Twelve thousand."
    "Nine."
    "Oh, I don't think—"
    "You write and tell him I'll pay nine thousand for a parcel of land he's never seen and doesn't want."
    He walked out, leaving the banker's expostulations behind.
    In the Texas Rose, he placed his coin on the bar and ordered with a single word. The barkeep poured and pushed the glass toward him, all the while studying his face.
    "Well, I'll be. You're that hand that came through here near a month ago, ain't you?” He didn't await an answer. “You went and hired on with the Widow Terhune just like I told you, didn't you?"
    "Yeah."
    "I knew it. I said to myself, Simon Hooper, that's got to be the one he's talking about. Couldn't be no other dark Texan with a dangerous look, had to be the same one, I said to myself.” A smile creased his round face. “Didn't know your name. So when he asked, casual like, if I knowed someone named Nick Dusaq, I just said no. But when he described you, I said to myself—"
    "Who asked?"
    "What? Oh, Thomas Dunn. Stopped by the other day, like always when he comes through town, to pass the time of day, you know, hear the news. He says before the Texas Rose nobody knew anything that was happening in this country. Now, all you have to do is set at the bar to hear it all. I'm not saying that's true, because to my way of thinking Thomas Dunn always worked his way around to hearing whatever was worth—"
    "What'd he want to know?"
    "—knowing,” Hooper finished, then picked up without pause. “Wanted to know if I knew this Nick Dusaq. If I'd heard what business he might have in this part of the world. If he'd known the Widow Terhune before he went to work at the Circle T."
    "What'd you tell him?"
    "Couldn't tell him nothing, could I? Didn't know any Nick Dusaq.” The barkeeper's smile grew wide. Nick decided Hooper was no great fan of Dunn. “After he left here, he went on over to Armstrong's office. Thought that might interest you. Carter Armstrong's right interested in staying in good with Dunn."
    Nick frowned. Nothing he could do about it. And Armstrong couldn't tell Dunn much, since he hadn't told the banker any more than necessary. Still, he didn't like it.
    He tossed another coin on the bar before starting out.
    "You leaving? Ain't you going to have this drink you just paid for?” Hooper asked, reaching for the bottle.
    "No. Have one yourself,” he said over his shoulder.
    "Don't mind if I do."
    * * * *
    The first day of calf branding, Rachel drove out a supply wagon to the main branding pen. They would use two more distant pens, too, but most of the branding of calves not marked at roundup would be done here, where Pryer Creek fed into Jasper Creek.
    While Fred set up the grub wagon, she and Joe-Max tied off rope to form a temporary corral for the horses that Shag and Nick were driving up. The other hands were drawing in calves between the main ranch and here, so she and Joe-Max built fires and set out irons to be ready for the afternoon's branding. Dinner would allow them their only rest between breakfast and supper, and Fred muttered and hummed as he prepared the generous