By now, the July sun was climbing the peak of the sky. The heat-seared grass crumbled under the wheels of the wagon. Blake could feel the warmth of Hanna’s body resting lightly against his side. Her womanly fragrance crept into his senses. His arousal came unbidden. He cursed himself as he struggled to ignore the male urge. This girl, with her air of sensual innocence, was not for him.
Until now, Hanna had stayed silent—perhaps she’d been taught not to interrupt when men were talking. But now she spoke up.
“Why do they hate us so much—the cowboys and ranchers? We’re good, honest people. We don’t want to take anything from them. All we want is the chance for a decent life—the same thing they wanted for themselves when they came here.”
Blake took a moment to come up with a reply that might satisfy her. “What they really hate is change. They’ve built a good life here with the ranches and the grass and the cattle. And they never planned on things being any different. Then the new laws and the railroad brought people like your family—good folks but with different ways, like digging up the grass to plant wheat. Then there’ve been other troubles, like the big drop in beef prices. That has nothing to do with your people, but the ranchers are losing money and laying off men—men who are looking for somebody to blame.”
“So they blame us,” Hanna said. “That’s not fair.”
“It isn’t fair,” Blake said. “But it’s pretty much the way of things.”
“What about you?” Alvar asked. “You just delivered a load of free wood to our neighbors. But I can’t believe you’d side with us against the ranchers. So where do you stand?”
“I’m on the side of anybody who buys Dollarhide lumber,” Blake said. “My father still runs a few hundred head of cattle, but the lumber is our main family business. We can’t afford to choose sides.”
“And what about your brother?” Hanna asked.
He should have expected the question, Blake told himself. Still, her mention of Mason rankled him. “Mason’s mother owns her own ranch, and she’s brought him up to take over. He’s a cattleman, through and through.”
A cattleman who’d rather chase women and race his horses than get dirt under his fingernails. Blake didn’t finish the thought out loud. The hands-on management of the Hollister Ranch was mostly done by Ralph Tomlinson, Amelia Dollarhide’s longtime foreman and lover.
Alvar cleared his throat, as if he’d been working up the courage to say something important. “You mentioned that you’d fired two of your workers. Does that mean you’ll be hiring more?”
“Not right now. But when the log shipment we’re waiting for comes in, I’ll be needing more help. Why? Are you interested?”
“I would be,” Alvar said. “Now that the wheat’s growing, my father can manage without me on the farm. And we could use the money to get us through till harvest. I’ve never worked in a sawmill, but I could learn what to do.”
Blake remembered his father’s suggestion about hiring the homesteaders. Alvar impressed him as a strong, willing young man who would get along with the other workers. “Come see me at the mill when we’re up and running again,” he said. “No promises, but we’ll see if you can do the job.”
“Alvar!” Hanna leaned past Blake to look at her brother. “What would Papa say? You know that he wants you to stay and help him on the farm. He wants to build a new shed and put up more fences.”
“But I’d be doing this for the family,” Alvar said. “Sheds and fences won’t put food on the table or buy shoes for the young ones, or winter feed for the horses. We’re going to need money. And I can help Papa in my spare time. I’ll talk to him. He’ll understand.”
A few minutes later the tar paper shack that Hanna and her brother called home came into sight. Three younger children—two girls and a boy, as fair-haired and handsome as their older siblings—were outside doing chores. A tired-looking woman was hanging the wash on a makeshift clothesline strung from the house to a pole in the ground. There was no shade, no trees or flowers, nothing to soften the harsh setting.
Alvar jumped to the ground before the wagon came to a full stop. The woman dropped the shirt she was hanging into the basket at her feet and hurried toward him.
“Alvar, what is it?” Her eyes were wide with alarm as he came around the wagon to help Hanna. “Is it your father? Is he all right?”
“He’s fine, Mama. But Hanna had an accident and hurt her ankle. She can tell you what happened.” He lifted his sister down from the bench and set her gently on the ground. “Mr. Dollarhide here was good enough to give us a ride home.”
“Thank you.” The woman looked up as she wrapped a supporting arm around her daughter. “You’ve done us a great kindness. I’m sorry I can’t invite you to stay for lunch.”
“I was glad to help. I’ll be on my way now. Ma’am.” He touched his hat brim, clucked to the team, and moved on. He wouldn’t have accepted her invitation even if it had been offered. But the good woman’s air of painful pride had touched him. Maybe she didn’t have enough food after the generous gift to her neighbors. Or more likely, she’d been warned not to deal with strangers. Whatever the reason, he couldn’t help feeling sorry for her lot. Heaven had blessed her with a bounty of beautiful children, but clearly not much else.
Within minutes Blake had left the sad little homestead behind and turned his thoughts back toward more urgent matters. By now, Big Lars and his friends could already be plotting their revenge on Hanna’s attackers. Blake had sworn not to get involved. But as the only outsider, he knew it would be up to him to stop the war that was sure to follow.
However, he couldn’t do it alone. Whether he liked it or not, he was going to need the help of the Calders.
CHAPTER FIVE
BLAKE HAD PLANNED TO RETURN TO THE SAWMILL BY WAY OF BLUE Moon, pick up supplies, return the rig to Garrity, and ride his buckskin horse out to the Calder ranch. But twenty minutes after leaving the Anderson place, his plans changed.
Checking the horizon, he spotted a rider coming at a diagonal from the direction of the homesteads that lay to the north. Even from a distance, Blake recognized the tall black gelding and the broad-set shoulders of the man in the saddle. It was Webb Calder.
At first he thought Webb might be trying to catch up with him. But after a moment’s watching, he realized that the Calder heir had cut off in a different direction, as if to avoid him.
Based on what Blake already knew, Webb’s behavior made sense. He remembered seeing Stefan Reisner with the other men at the homestead where he’d dropped off the wood. There’d been no sign of Reisner’s pretty young wife, who’d suffered burns when her skirt caught fire. And now here was Webb, coming from the direction of the Reisner place and behaving as if he didn’t want to be seen.
Webb’s secret love life was none of his business, Blake reminded himself. But he did have urgent business with the Calders. Catching up with Webb now would save time—maybe enough time to prevent a tragedy.
Decision made, he swung the team to the right and headed after Webb at a speed that sent the empty wagon bouncing and flying over the rough ground. As soon as he got within range, Blake started shouting, hailing Webb by name. Webb reined up, turned, and trotted his black horse back to meet the wagon.