Just Her Type Read online

  When Douglas heard a body hitting the ground, he grabbed the riderless horse’s reins and let out a cheer. On Luke’s long walk back to Bentonville, he could think about how much he had hurt Ma and how stupid he would be to do that again.

  Luke Bradfield was getting what he deserved.

  Aaron O’Grady ushered Mackenzie into the house that stood next to the barn displaying the OG Star Ranch brand. As she untied the ribbons on her bonnet, she smiled a greeting at Alma, the housekeeper. The heavyset woman was, as always, as neat as the house.

  “Buenos días. Señora McCraven.”

  “How are you, Alma?”

  “The knee. You know.” She shrugged with resignation. “A cool drink, señora?”

  “Whatever you have will be fine.”

  The housekeeper took Aaron’s dusty hat. “And you, sir?”

  “Whiskey. On ice. Mackenzie would like lemonade.”

  “Shall I serve on the terrace?”

  He shook his head. “Right here. We had enough sun on the way out.” Putting his hand on Mackenzie’s elbow, he asked, “Shall we, darlin’?”

  Mackenzie drew her arm away as they walked into the large front room. Even the abundance of furniture could not make it cozy. She had never asked where Aaron had gotten the gilt-covered tables. Probably from Chicago or New York.

  She sat on a large chair. Shifting so her shoes were on the floor, she stared at the animal heads nailed to the fieldstone fireplace. Between an elk’s and a mountain lion’s was one she had not seen before.

  “When did you shoot that timber wolf?” Her voice trembled. The mere mention of wolves should not remind her of hearing them while Luke kissed her. He was off calling on Lacey Langhorne, who would be eager for his caresses. Good! The two of you deserve each other.

  “During the winter.” Aaron handed her a frosted glass of lemonade. “Has it been that long since you’ve visited, Mackenzie?”

  “I’d prefer not to speak of my last visit.”

  He laughed. “As you want to get right to business, let me tell you that I don’t want you accepting any more advertisements from Rutherford.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s sure to cause trouble.”

  She sipped the lemonade. “There’s trouble already. When rustlers can sneak in and steal one hundred head of cattle, then someone must be helping them.”

  “That’s Rutherford’s problem.”

  “How do you know it won’t be your problem next?”

  He leaned forward to rest broad hands on his wool trousers. “Mackenzie, Rutherford’s a businessman, not a cattleman. Things like that won’t happen on the OG Star.”

  “Be that as it may, I won’t refuse an advertisement because you think it’s a waste of Mr. Rutherford’s money.”

  “I don’t care how Rutherford squanders his money. I’m just thinking of you. That advertisement is stirring up more trouble by turning men against each other.”

  “I mentioned that to Mr. Rutherford, but he believed unmasking the rustlers was more important.”

  He shook his head in amusement. “Darlin’, you’re as gullible as you are beautiful.”

  She scowled. Although he had not said so—today—Aaron thought no woman was capable of running a newspaper. “You think so?”

  “Jamison Rutherford has no intention of paying that reward. He wants the publicity to bring more business to Bentonville—and under his thumb.”

  “Bringing more business isn’t a bad idea.”

  “Having it under his thumb is.”

  Putting her glass on a table, she said, “Aaron, Mr. Rutherford told me he’s eager to sit down with you and Connolly to work out a truce.”

  He snorted. “And my horse is going to fly to the moon.”

  “You don’t have to be so melodramatic.”

  He clasped her hands between his. “Mackenzie, you’re a dreamer. If you can’t see through Rutherford, of all men, you need someone to protect you.” His fingers tightened. “I’ve made you the offer more than once.”

  She stood. “And I’ve told you more than once that my life is my son and the Bugle. There’s no room for anyone else in it.”

  Rising, he stepped so close that she bumped into the chair behind her. “Not even Bradfield?”

  “I can assure you there’s nothing but business between me and Luke Bradfield.” After today, she added silently. “I think I should leave.”

  “Mackenzie—”

  She whirled. “The answer is no! I don’t want to be your mistress—”

  “Who said anything about you being my mistress?” He folded her hands between his. “I’m asking you to be my wife, Mackenzie.”

  She stared at him. “Your wife?”

  “Why not, darlin’?” He grasped her shoulders. “You have a hard life in Bentonville. Let me give you the life Cameron wanted you to have. A good life.”

  She blinked back tears. Cameron had promised her that someday they would live in the hills and raise their son on the open ranges. “Aaron—”

  “Say yes, darlin’. We’ll get married right away.” He chuckled. “You can put ‘Just Married’ in big letters on the last issue of the Bugle.”

  “I’ll decide what goes into The Bentonville Bugle, and it won’t be an announcement of our wedding.” She walked out of the room.

  Hearing his footsteps, Mackenzie reached for her bonnet and tied it under her chin. She went out into the warm afternoon. Before she could step off the porch, a lanky man raced up the stairs, almost knocking her off her feet.

  “Idiot!” shouted Aaron. “Didn’t you see Mackenzie there?”

  The cowboy gulped a hurried apology, then whispered, “Got to talk to you, Mr. O’Grady. Now!”

  “I’ll be back in an hour.”

  “Can’t wait that long.” Bending, he whispered in his boss’s ear.

  Aaron’s face blanched. “Will you excuse me, Mackenzie?”

  “Trouble?”

  “I don’t have time to explain now. Truett, take her back to town. Then you can bring the buggy here, in case we need it for—” He ran across the verandah. “I’ll see you later, Mackenzie.”

  “Ready?” asked Truett, motioning to the waiting buggy.

  Mackenzie let him hand her into the buggy. A smile tilted her lips. She knew Truett. He could never keep a secret. Aaron must be really upset if he had forgotten how last year Truett had spilled the truth about Aaron’s plan to buy the land south of the railroad tracks.

  She curbed her patience until they had driven through the gate where a copy of the OG Star brand rocked in the wind. When they turned onto the road leading into Bentonville, she murmured, “What’s the trouble?”

  “O’Grady wouldn’t like it if I said,” Truett answered, looking over his shoulder.

  “Why not? If there’s trouble, it won’t be kept quiet.”

  Truett wiped his dusty beard with his equally dirty shirtsleeve. “I guess it’ll be all over town by nightfall.” He stared ahead. “Trouble on the north range. More than fifty dogies have vanished. Poof!”

  “Just like Rutherford’s?”

  “Don’t go putting that I told you in the Bugle.” He slowed the buggy in front of the print shop.

  “By the time the Bugle comes out on Wednesday, this will be old news.”

  Mackenzie got out and went into the shop. She tossed her bonnet on top of the turtle. Things were getting worse, but Aaron still would not seek his rivals’ help. She was sure of that, but what could she do to protect the town? Write another editorial? She clenched her fist. No one listened to her, but refusing to heed the truth would not protect the residents from the coming disaster which no one might be able to prevent.

  Hours later, Mackenzie still paced behind the half-wall. Looking out the front windows, she saw a pair of drunks swaying in the twilight. She strode to the back door and peered into the dark yard. There was no sign of Luke or Douglas. Fear clamped around her throat, making it impossible to breathe. She should have known better t
han to trust Luke with her son. Who knew what kind of mad adventure he would lead Douglas on?

  Hearing footsteps overhead, she gripped her full skirts and raced up the stairs. She burst into the room and stared at her son. “When did you get home?”

  “A while back.”

  She frowned. He must have been home before she was. Otherwise, she would have seen him come in. It was not like Douglas to lurk up here when he could be playing baseball with his friends. “Where’s Luke?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “He didn’t come home with you?”

  “No.”

  “Did he tell you when he planned to be back?” She wrung her hands until she realized she was wrinkling her best dress. Pulling an apron off the hook, she dropped it over her head and tied the sashes behind her. Just once, he should think about someone else. She flinched. He did think of someone else. He thought about her and how he could seduce her.

  “No, he didn’t say,” Douglas mumbled.

  Mackenzie put her hands on his shoulders and was surprised to feel them quaking. “Is something wrong?”

  “Wrong?” He ran a hand through his dark hair until it stood in spikes. “Nothing, Ma. Are we going to eat soon?”

  “In about half an hour. Do you have something to do?”

  “Just curry down the pony.”

  She kissed him on the top of the head. “Go ahead. I’ll make some sandwiches with the leftover chicken. Maybe, by then, Luke will be back.”

  “Ma?”

  She looked over her shoulder. Douglas began to speak, but stopped. As she had before, she asked, “Is something wrong?”

  “I …” He dampened his lips. “I’ll be right back. I’m starving.” He raced down the stairs.

  Something was bothering Douglas. He did not usually evade her questions like this. She hurried after him.

  An impatient wind tugged at her skirts as she stepped into the backyard. Thunderheads towered over the mountains. She knew how quickly storms could swoop down on Bentonville. If Luke was still out, she hoped he had enough sense to seek shelter.

  Douglas stood in the barn door, staring at the storm. When he looked at her, tears glittered on his cheeks.

  “Douglas?” She was not sure what she wanted to ask because she was afraid of what she might hear.

  “Ma, we—I—Ma, I’m worried about Luke.”

  Never had she seen such anguish on her son’s face. “Tell me why.”

  He sat on a stool by the pony’s stall. He folded his hands between his knees as he whispered, “He wanted to see the countryside, so I took him for a ride.”

  “You’ve told me that. What happened?”

  Douglas shuffled his feet. “Ma, I just wanted to repay him for hurting you.” Tears rolled down his colorless cheeks. “I saw how angry you were at him. Then he was smooching up to Lacey.”

  “He kissed Lacey?” Pain carved through her.

  He shook his head. “He’s not that stupid. She was oozing all over him. It made me angry that he let her act like that, Ma, so I decided to give him some time to think it over.”

  She pressed a hand over the spot where her heart refused to beat for a long painful second. “Where is he, Douglas?”

  “He should have been here by now, Ma!”

  “I know that. But where is he?”

  He wiped his nose with his hand as he sobbed, “I left him in the stand of trees over by where O’Grady’s spread bumps into LaBounty’s homestead. I just snapped a branch at him. It knocked him from his horse. I left him, so he had to walk home.”

  “Douglas, did you check to be sure he wasn’t hurt?”

  “No, Ma, I didn’t think—” He looked up at her and whispered, “I only wanted to help you.”

  “I know, Douglas. I know.” She cringed as thunder sounded. “But now we must find Luke.”

  Luke woke to a throbbing headache. Thunder crashed around him, but he was unsure whether it came from a storm or from the maelstrom within his skull. Turning on a hard surface, he saw a fire on a hearth. That explained the uneven light, but why did his head ache like this?

  “Awake, friend?”

  He tried to focus his eyes. When he saw a dim form move in the shadows, he struggled to sit and groaned as his head threatened to explode.

  “Take it easy, friend,” warned the voice.

  “Where …? Who …?”

  A cup was held to his lips. Whiskey slid along his throat, slicing into the bonds of pain. He put his fingers around the cup and tilted it back farther. The biting flavor revived him.

  “Better?” asked the shadow.

  He touched a bandage wrapped around his forehead. “What happened?”

  “I was going to ask you that. Would it hurt too much if I lit a candle?”

  Luke was not too sure he was being honest when he said, “No.”

  A scratch warned him to shut his eyes. Even through lowered lids, the light slashed at him. He opened his eyes and groaned as a flash of lightning erupted into the room.

  Luke looked at an elfin creature sitting on a stool. Meeting the sparkling eyes beneath the thick eyebrows which contrasted with the man’s bald head, he watched as wide lips narrowed in a generous grin. The man wore a sleeveless undershirt with suspenders and patched denims.

  A quick glance showed him the cabin was in the same poor shape. A shelf hung at an angle, and dirty dishes were stacked on a table balanced on three legs and on a stool.

  “I’m Luke Bradfield. Last thing I remember is that I was riding … I think.”

  “Yeah, you were riding. Horse tracks all over the place where I found you. It’s a good thing I wanted some squirrel for supper.” Grinning, he offered a stubby hand. “Name’s LaBounty. Hap LaBounty.”

  “Hap?”

  “Short for Hapless. Used to have another name, but I’ve kind of grown attached to this one.” Scratching his bulbous nose, he asked, “You ain’t Mackenzie’s Bradfield by any chance?”

  He started to nod, but thought better of it when pain washed over him. “Guilty.”

  “What’s a greenhorn like you doing so far out from town?”

  “That’s a good question.” Luke could recall nothing after … He groaned again.

  Hap patted his arm. “You look like you got side-swiped by a stampede. I don’t think your nose is broken, but you’re going to have a fine shiner on that right eye. You Eastern boys should take it easy with Stub’s whiskey.”

  “I wasn’t drunk.” Opening his eyes, he tried to focus on the little man. “I don’t know who hit me, but if I find out who did this—”

  “I’ll hold him down while you hit him.” Hap chuckled. “Rest, Bradfield. You have some lumps on your head which don’t look too good.”

  Luke had intended to answer, but he surrendered to the sleep which had been enticing him since the moment he’d awoke to find himself safe. Unlike the last time … He was unable to follow that thought.

  Noise erupted through Luke’s uneasy sleep. He sat up. Hap LaBounty’s cabin was filled with strangers. A man wearing a bandanna over his face had Hap by the scruff of the neck. Luke shouted. At least he had planned on shouting. His attempt produced only a squawk.

  Another man, dressed in the denims and flannel worn by all the cowpokes around Bentonville, turned. His face was concealed, too. The gun in his hand glittered. As Luke stood, pain seared him so viciously he almost believed he had been shot. Only the man had not fired. It was the pain resonating through his head.

  “Who’s that?” called a man by the door.

  “Bradfield,” answered the man on the other end of the gun.

  “He’s worthless. It’s LaBounty we want.”

  Hap bellowed, “Get out and tell your boss to keep his dogies off my land.”

  The man by the door laughed. “Your land? Good one, LaBounty!”

  “If Cameron McCraven was still alive, you wouldn’t try this.”

  “McCraven is dead, and soon his pretty widow will be taken care of, too.” He balan
ced his pistol in his hand. “Of course, she won’t die as easily as McCraven. But you needn’t worry about that, LaBounty.”

  Luke struggled to speak. These men must know the truth. If he did not find out what it was, Mackenzie could die.

  Someone caught his arms and twisted them behind him. A fist crashed into his face. With a moan, he crumpled to the floor. He clawed at the bed to get to his knees. A disembodied hand grasped his hair and jerked his head back.

  Through blurred eyes, he watched the leader come toward him. The man spat out, “Bradfield, if you had half a brain, you’d vamoose back to wherever you’re from. You can’t protect Mackenzie. She’s marked for death as soon as our boss is done enjoying her.”

  “Who—who …?”

  “Listen to him! He’s an owl.”

  Derisive chuckles filled the room as hands hoisted him onto the bed. A pistol appeared in front of his face. He froze, unable to move as he heard a hammer click, but the sound of a gun firing came from across the room.

  His curses did not reach his lips as he saw Hap LaBounty fall in his own blood. The gun before Luke disappeared into a cacophony of pain across his head. His last conscious thought was that he was being allowed to live only so these criminals could enjoy watching his futile attempts to save Mackenzie and her son.

  The creak of a door opening helped Luke fight the never-ending evil. He must find a way to come fully awake. He refused to die in his sleep.

  When he heard Mackenzie’s soft cry, he struggled to open his eyes. He was not sure how she had found him, but he had to warn her. He had to tell her. Trying to force the words to his mouth, he discovered he was a prisoner of his pain. Speaking was impossible.

  “Luke?” she whispered. “Luke, wake up! How long has he been like this, Hap?”

  Luke wanted to tell her that dead men cannot answer. In shock, he heard Hap LaBounty answer.

  Hap LaBounty was dead!

  Was Mackenzie a dream? She could not be real if she was talking to a murdered man. Were they both dead? Was he dead as well? Had the cowboys killed all of them?

  Yet, if he was dead, why did he hurt so bad? He wanted to find an answer, but the cold void in the center of his brain swallowed every thought.

  EIGHT