The Horseman

Why not? Katelyn figured they were cut from the same bolt of cloth. Tears of anger stung her eyes, and she wrapped her arms around her waist, comforting herself, the handle of the spoon cutting into the meat of her palm.

Maybe, if she didn’t make a sound, Cal wouldn’t know she was here. That was the best course.

“Guess I owe you five hundred when you leave. Not pleased about that, horseman, but I am grateful to you for solving that problem for me.”

“I see. A man with a reputation for fine horseflesh wouldn’t want an Indian pony mating with his expensive broodmares.”

“Glad you see my point. I won’t forget about the five hundred. You got the animal strung up? We got a cougar problem. Wouldn’t hurt to set a couple of the men up with guns and use the carcass to draw the cat out. I’d be most obliged.”

Obliged? That was a civilized way of saying it. A moneyed way of dealing with a problem. Disgust soured Dillon’s mouth, leaving a bad taste he couldn’t tolerate. He liked to avoid confrontations when he could. Most situations weren’t worth fighting over.

Some were.

He took a breath, remembering the woman in the other room, and kept his tone low so he wouldn’t scare her, but serious. Deadly serious. “I have trouble seeing how the boys will be able to do that.”

“Oh? Tired, are they? I suppose tomorrow night will do as well.” Perched at the top of the impressive cherry-wood staircase, at one with the shadows, Cal might have figured he looked intimidating.

Dillon braced his feet and planted his hands on his hips. “Nope. As I see it, tomorrow night ain’t going to work, either.”

“Why’s that?”

“Two reasons. The first being the men aren’t back yet. They’re still out there looking for that Indian pony.” Defiance strengthened the horseman’s baritone and it rang like winter thunder.

Katelyn crept to the doorway, keeping out of sight. She could see a sliver of the horseman, the jut of his elbow and the steeled length of his upper arm. The rounded tip of his right boot.

But she could feel his presence like a swiftly approaching storm, the crackle in the air, the sting of anticipation and the bridled force.

“What’s the other reason?” Cal demanded.

Katelyn knew what the horseman would say. The money wasn’t enough—he wanted more than five hundred. She knew how men worked. He and Cal would argue about it, trade insults, show their tough sides and Dillon would hand over the stallion he’d caught and had hidden for the right amount of cash.

Why was she listening? She ought to take her tea, creep up the backstairs and never think of the horseman again. He was no different from her stepfather or from those other hired men who were riding by the light of the moon, hunting a wounded stallion for their own gain. It was a shame.

“The real reason I can’t do it is simple.” Hennessey grabbed the knob of the newel post and his glare was an unmistakable challenge. “I didn’t catch the stallion.”

“What do you mean? You were right there. I wounded him. He couldn’t have outrun you.”

“He’s a tricky devil.”

Oh, so that’s how it was going to be. Hennessey was planning to bargain now, get the price he wanted first, then bring in the stallion.

Nauseated, Katelyn turned away, her step a whisper on the boards, her disappointment as heavy as an anvil. She didn’t want to hear anymore.

“I don’t give a damn how clever that piece of dog meat is! I want you to bring me that stallion.”

Katelyn froze. What had happened to the stallion? Her pulse hammered through her chest, a staccato beat that coursed through her veins and she waited, aching with the faintest hope the animal had escaped.

“Can’t do it. Sorry, sir.”

Katelyn felt dizzy with relief. Or maybe it was the extreme emotions warring in her. Pride in the injured stallion for eluding the horseman. How strong and brave of him. Fury at Hennessey for hunting the horse in the first place. He was a son of a bitch, that’s what he was. A strong man hurting the weaker, the more vulnerable. The very nature of man made her sick and she padded away, careful to remain quiet.

“Then get the hell back out there!” Cal’s fury echoed in the silent rooms. “Out! Now.”

“Won’t do it.” There was no apology in the horseman’s words.

Hope returned. What did he say? The stallion was alive?

“I won’t allow that stallion to be harmed. Not if I’m standing. When I hired on, we made a deal, Willman. I told you, no harm. I won’t inflict it. I won’t stand for it. Only a coward hurts an animal.”

He stood like an errant knight at the base of the stairs, washed in light, framed by darkness, a solitary soldier that fought for all that was right.

It was fanciful, Katelyn knew, but she’d been wrong. Dillon hadn’t hunted the stallion, and the power of it left her trembling. Her chest filled. Her eyes burned.

She’d been mean to him. Again! Remembering his fumbling attempt to speak to her in this kitchen, and how she’d expected the worst of him, she covered her mouth with her hands. She’d been wrong. She’d been wrong about the stallion. What about the man?

“No, Willman,” Hennessey was saying, his rage a controlled, quiet warning. “Not for all the money you could beg, borrow or steal to pay me. It’s time to end our business.”

Cal’s swearing tirade made Katelyn wince, but it didn’t seem to intimidate Dillon. He did not shrink or cower, but faced Cal with confidence.

“If you can’t find the greenbacks, I will take my salary in trade. I’ve got my eye on three of your broodmares. I’ll be happy with that.”

“Why you greedy bastard. You take those horses, that’s theft, and I’ll have a noose hanging around your neck. We still hang horse thieves in this county.”

“Taking what you owe me isn’t theft. Any jury will agree.”

“Who needs a jury? You’ll do the job I paid you to do.”

“Then pay me what you owe me, or I’ll make you get out that noose. You’re not man enough to get it around my neck.”

“Fine. I’ll be rid of you, but that won’t save the stallion.” Cal stormed down the stairs and pushed past the horseman, knocked him hard in the shoulder as he passed.

Hennessey didn’t move. The blow didn’t register. He stood like a granite mountain, as if nothing could harm him.

He was the only man she’d ever known who would stand up to her stepfather.

A door squeaked open at the far end of the hall. Not the door to the library, where her stepfather’s safe was hidden, but her bedroom door.

No, not the jewelry. Horror filled her as the air was pulled from her lungs. Her hands flew to her throat as she gaped, fighting to breathe. Her plans died before her eyes as her stepfather approached, holding something that winked and glittered in his outstretched hand.

“Here. Take it. It’s all I have. It ought to be worth a few hundred. A drifter like you couldn’t be worth more.”

“I’m not interested in a lady’s jewelry. I told you, I want greenbacks, or I’ll take the mares. It’s your call.”

Katelyn sank to the floor, her face in her hands. This couldn’t be happening. How could she have forgotten to move the jewelry? It was because of him, the horseman. He’d been the sight that drew her from the room, making her forget everything but him. It wasn’t fair. Not after all she’d been through.

“I can’t let you have the mares, Hennessey. They are all that’s keeping me solvent. If I had the money in hand, I’d pay you.” Cal closed his fist, crushing the necklace in his cruel hand. “I have a fine house, with many treasures here. Surely I have something you might want?”

“I have no use for a fancy painting or expensive candlesticks. You have until morning to come up with the greenbacks, or I’ll take this matter to the sheriff.”