Blake mounted his waiting horse and rode back down to the lumber mill. Becoming a father had sharpened his awareness of the need to protect his wife and child, and to protect Hanna’s family. Now that the fields were green with sprouting wheat, the raiders were growing bolder. Drawn by the money offered, their number was increasing.
So far, the raids amounted to little more than mischief—pulling down fences, sending range cattle stampeding over the growing wheat, burning a few sheds and outhouses. But the settlers who hadn’t sold out and left were digging in, determined to stay and fight if they had to—and men like Stefan Reisner’s friend, Franz Kreuger, were stirring them up, urging them to take reprisals. Meanwhile, big ranchers like the Calders were turning a blind eye.
Blake knew that it wouldn’t take much to blow the lid off the powder keg. He’d been keeping his eyes open and his ear to the ground but had learned nothing new about the people with the money.
Doyle Petit had to be in this up to his ears, but he was smart enough not to get his hands dirty. Beyond buying up the vacated property, which was legal, there was nothing to tie him to the raids and no evidence of who his go-between could be.
It was time he dug deeper, Blake told himself. And there was one person who might be able to shed light on what was happening—if he could trust her to tell the truth.
The next day he left the mill to pay a call. He hadn’t spoken with Amelia since their encounter before the wedding, when she’d assured him that she wanted nothing to do with Hanna or her baby. He knew better than to think she might change her mind. All the same, as he tied his horse to the hitching rail and walked up to the front porch, he couldn’t deny a mixed sense of trepidation and distaste. He had never liked Blake’s mother. And he liked her even less now.
He didn’t plan to tell her she was a grandmother because she neither wanted nor deserved the title. And he wouldn’t ask her about Mason because he didn’t give a damn about his half brother. He would keep his visit short and to the point.
It was Amelia herself who answered his knock, dressed in a tailored white shirtwaist and narrow skirt which seemed to be the latest fashion. “Blake.” Her smile was friendly, but her eyes like green ice. “What a surprise. Won’t you come in?” She stepped aside for him to enter. “Have a seat. Can I get you a drink?”
“I’ll take the seat, but no drink, thanks. I won’t be staying long.” He took the chair she indicated. She faced him, perched on the edge of the settee.
“What can I do for you? I take it your family is well.”
“They’re fine. I’ll give them your best.”
She cleared her throat with a ladylike cough. “If you’ve come to ask about Mason, I haven’t heard from him in some time. I can only assume he’s enjoying his independence.”
“This isn’t about him. Actually I’ve come to ask you about Doyle Petit. I know the two of you had some business ties—including part ownership of his bank.”
“Which I turned over to Mason. Not that he showed me much gratitude for it.”
“I’m aware of that. But a few weeks ago, Doyle told me that he’d like to buy out Mason’s share in the bank. I told him to speak to you. Have you heard from him?”
“I have not.” She made a little huffing sound. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Doyle also told me how he’s been buying out the settlers who are leaving and holding the property for resale at a higher price. Was your family involved in that part of his business?”
“Certainly not!” Her gaze was level and unflinching. “I don’t like the drylander riffraff, but as long as they keep their distance from my property, I’m willing to live and let live.”
“But there are folks who don’t feel that way,” Blake said. “Somebody’s paying a gang of thugs to harass them into leaving. Then Doyle buys them out for pennies on the dollar.”
“Somebody’s paying the raiders, you say? So you’ve come to ask if it’s me? I can assure you it isn’t. Why on earth would I do such a thing?”
“Two reasons. Land and money.”
“And since I have plenty of both, why should I stoop to paying a bunch of hoodlums to break the law? Whoever’s doing this, Blake, it isn’t me. I swear it on my father’s grave.” She rose, brushing the creases out of her skirt. “And now, if you don’t mind, I think we’ve wasted enough of each other’s time. You can show yourself out.”
For Blake, it was a relief to mount his horse and ride away. Amelia’s heart was about as warm as a snake’s. But strangely enough, he was inclined to believe her. The Hollister Ranch was south of Blue Moon, well away from the homesteads. Her land, while perfect for cattle, was too hilly for wheat farming. There was little chance of settlers encroaching on her property.
And, as she’d said, she was rich in both land and money. It was a messy business, driving homesteaders off their land; and if there was anything Amelia disliked, it was messiness.
But now that he thought about it, last fall in Miles City, he’d seen her foreman, Ralph Tomlinson, going into the building that served as the bank and land office. Was Amelia buying land from Doyle—or helping him in some other way? Maybe she was setting something up for Mason whenever he was due to return.
Either way was a long shot. But next time he was in Miles City it might be worth his time to check. Bank accounts were private, but land transfers and titles were public information. If Amelia was buying vacated homesteads from Doyle, perhaps for Mason, it should be possible to find out.
But with tensions rising every day between the settlers and the hired raiders, anything he did might be too little too late.
* * *
Hanna sat in the parlor with her baby on her lap, watching the expressions change on his exquisite little face—pink lips puckering, forehead wrinkling in a baby frown, then a tiny yawn. Never had she imagined that a child could be so enchanting.
There was little, if any, of Mason—or even her—in the baby’s appearance. His coloring was all Joe Dollarhide. But that didn’t matter. She would have loved him regardless; and the miracle was that Blake seemed to love him, too. Maybe some higher power had meant for Blake to be the one to usher her baby into the world. In the three weeks that had passed since that moment, Blake had become everything a proud, protective father should be.
But now that she was recovering from the birth, what kind of husband would he be?
And what would he expect of her as a wife? So many questions. So many fears.
Did she want him? But why even ask? Since the baby had come and she’d begun to get her strength back, she could scarcely look at him without feeling a surge of desire in the depths of her body.
But did he want her? Blake had been tender and considerate, but that told her nothing. Maybe he was getting satisfaction elsewhere. Maybe when he looked at her, what he felt was contempt because she’d been with Mason first.
The weeks ahead would answer those questions. But Blake had promised not to touch her unless it was what she wanted. And Blake was a man of his word. It would be up to her to put her pride on the line and make the first move.
The sound of a footstep on the stairs broke into her thoughts. Hanna looked up as Kristin came into the parlor. Her violet eyes were laced with red and swollen with tears.