Pearl Page 11

  “Damn it, Daniel, you don’t want to rile Pa. Now get away from her.”

  “Gilbert.” Pearl was shocked at his rough language. “A boy your age shouldn’t talk that way. Especially in front of your little brother. You should be setting a better example for him.”

  “Example?” With a look of disdain, the boy dragged his brother toward their wagon. Just then, the sack of grain slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground. The seams split, spilling grain all over the ground.

  From the doorway came the sound of a voice cursing loudly, causing heads to turn.

  “Damned lazy, good-for-nothing...” Rollie Ingram bore down on his sons, but not before the two boys dropped to their knees and began hastily scooping up the fallen kernels as though they were precious gold.

  While Gilbert and Daniel struggled to retrieve their burden, their father continued raining curses on them. “Damned fools! Can’t even watch where you’re goin’. You’d best clean it up. Every single grain. I’m not wastin’ good money to have you throw it away in the dirt.”

  Though no one seemed willing to get too close to them, all the adults in town were aware of what was going on. A hushed silence had fallen over the townspeople. Several of the younger children, to relieve the sudden tension, began pointing and laughing at the two Ingram boys groveling in the dirt.

  Rollie gave his older boy a vicious kick, then, for good measure, kicked the back of the wagon before tossing down a sack of flour and stomping back into the mercantile for more supplies.

  When he disappeared inside, Pearl hurried over and knelt, determined to help the two boys.

  Gilbert turned on her with a blaze of anger to match his father’s. “Haven’t you got it through your head yet? My pa doesn’t want you hanging around us. And we don’t want you here, either.”

  Pearl couldn’t hide her shock at his unexpected attack.

  “Gilbert.” She laid a hand on his sleeve. “I know how terrible you feel about spilling—”

  He shook off her hand. “You don’t know anything. Just go on back over there with the nice respectable folks and leave us be.”

  She glanced from Gilbert to Daniel. The little boy met her eyes for a moment. Then, hearing a murmur of disapproval from the crowd, he lowered his head and continued scooping up the grain.

  As Pearl got reluctantly to her feet, she found herself face-to-face with Rollie Ingram. His mouth was twisted into a leering imitation of a smile. Though it wasn’t yet noon, the stench of liquor was strong on his breath.

  “You heard my boy, Miss High-and-Mighty Jewel. You got no business botherin’ us.” He caught her by the shoulder, intending to give her a shove. “Now git.”

  A big hand clamped over his, squeezing his fingers until he thought they’d break.

  Cal’s voice was a low rasp of fury. “Don’t you ever lay a hand on this lady. Don’t even think about it, or you’ll answer to me, Ingram.”

  Rollie’s eyes narrowed to little slits. He lowered his hand, and, flexing his injured fingers, took a step backward.

  “Didn’t know ya’d put yer brand on her, McCabe.” He raised his voice, enjoying the fact that he was putting on a show for the whole town. “Should’ve expected it, though. You and them wranglers must be having one hell of a good time out there at the ranch, now that ya got yerself three new fillies to break in.”

  Town gossips Lavinia Thurlong and Gladys Witherspoon, as well as several other women, lifted their hands to their mouths to stifle their shocked gasps. The men glanced around nervously.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Pearl saw Travis Worthing and Bart Adams shoving their way to the front of the crowd, plainly hoping to witness a juicy fight.

  She was aware of the fact that she was completely out of her element. She knew that she was inviting ridicule, standing in the dust of Hanging Tree for the whole town to see, holding tightly to her parasol as though it were a lifeline. But she felt she had no choice. She simply couldn’t walk away.

  Seeing Cal’s stance, feet apart, hands clenching into fists, she acted quickly, stepping between the two men. Facing Cal’s wrath was much more difficult than facing Ingram’s insults. But she would not permit herself to be the reason for violence.

  “No, Cal,” she said. “You mustn’t do this.”

  “Step aside, Pearl.” His voice was dangerously soft. His eyes were as hard as granite.

  “I will not. Let him go.”

  A low, simmering fury pulsed through Cal. He wanted, needed, a release for it. And he couldn’t think of a better one than a good fight. Especially with scum like Rollie Ingram. The man sickened him.

  “He insulted your good name.”

  “It’s my name. And my choice not to seek satisfaction. Please, Cal. For the sake of the children, let him go.”

  Cal’s fingers continued curling and uncurling, as he struggled to control his temper. While the crowd watched and waited, he glanced from Ingram to his sons, before finally nodding his head. Pearl was right. Those two boys had been humiliated enough. They didn’t need to see their father beaten in front of the whole town.

  “If you know what’s good for you, Ingram, you’ll get out of here as fast as that nag will take you. And stay out.”

  Rollie Ingram, thanks to the liquor, had an inflated sense of his own power. Instead of being grateful for having been spared a beating, he couldn’t resist the chance to gloat. He glanced from Cal to Pearl, then back again, before throwing back his head and giving a roar of laughter.

  “Never thought I’d see the day some woman would turn Cal McCabe into a piss-ant.”

  Then, as the townspeople gasped and began to murmur among themselves, he spat a wad of tobacco, barely missing the hem of Pearl’s skirt.

  With a muttered oath, Cal started forward, but Pearl placed her hands on his chest, entreating him to hold back.

  Gilbert and Daniel, who had been watching the entire scene on their knees, suddenly lifted the gaping sack of grain into the back of the wagon.

  Rollie pulled himself up to the seat and snarled, “Git in or git left behind.”

  The two boys scrambled to climb aboard as their father cracked a whip and the horse and wagon lurched forward.

  The crowd of townspeople fell silent, sickened by what they had witnessed. Some felt cheated because there had been no fight, no sense of satisfaction. Others were simply saddened by what they’d seen. One by one, they began to drift away.

  Without a word, Cal helped Pearl into the waiting carriage.

  As she settled herself, she said, “I’m sorry, Cal. I know I overstepped my bounds. But I thought, as a teacher, I had to set an example of forgiveness for my students.”

  “Forgiveness?” He bit off the word with a tone of contempt. “A bully like Rollie Ingram doesn’t understand anything except strength. What you see as a virtue, he sees as a weakness. Remember that, and be warned, Pearl. There will be nothing but grief for anyone Ingram suspects of being weaker than himself.”

  The ride home was the longest of Pearl’s life. Though Jade and Ruby attempted to engage them in conversation, she and Cal exchanged not a word. And from the way he gripped the reins, Pearl knew that his anger had not abated.

  When the carriage rolled to a stop at the front door of the ranch house, Cal climbed down and offered a hand to the women.

  Ruby and Jade hurried inside, to escape the sun’s heat.

  Pearl placed her hand in Cal’s and wished there was something she could say to make amends.

  “My heart goes out to the Ingram boys,” she began. “Their father’s behavior is despicable. And he has forbidden them...”

  Cal ignored the heat of her touch and concentrated on cooling his temper. It would take a heap of chores to erase the fire that still burned in his gut. Maybe he’d ride to one of the line camps, and spend a few days working from dawn to dark. Hard, demanding work might do it. Then again...

  His head jerked up. “What did you just say?”

  “I said,” she repeated pat
iently, “that little Daniel, and even Gilbert, as hardened as he may pretend to be, couldn’t take their eyes off the schoolhouse when they passed by the other day.”

  “Passed by?”

  “With their father.” She lowered her parasol, intending to climb the front steps. “In his wagon.”

  Cal’s hand clamped around her arm, stopping her in midstride.

  “What day was that?” he demanded.

  She was surprised by the strength in his grasp. “Cal, you’re hurting me.”

  Instead of loosening his grip, he caught her by the other arm and nearly shook her in frustration. “What day did you see them?”

  “Friday, I think.” She paused a moment, then nodded. “Yes. Friday afternoon.”

  His tone hardened. “And you never thought to mention it?”

  “No, I...” She lowered her gaze, uncomfortable beneath his burning look. “I simply forgot.”

  “You forgot? You forgot to mention that Ingram was trespassing on Jewel property?”

  “I’m sorry. I had other things on my mind.” She pushed free of his grasp and rubbed idly at the crushed fabric of her sleeve. “But I don’t think it’s the trespassing that has you upset. It’s the fact that it was Rollie Ingram.”

  “You bet it is.” His eyes narrowed in thought. “There have been some thefts lately.”

  She stiffened. Her head came up. “Thefts?”

  He nodded. “Farm implements. Brood cows. And now a sow and her litter.”

  “A...sow?” Pearl’s heart fell. “Oh, Cal. Where?”

  “The west line camp. Lester Miller sent a message with one of the wranglers yesterday.” Seeing the look of dismay on her face, he said, “Now what?”

  “There...was a sow and piglets in the back of Rollie Ingram’s wagon.”

  Though his expression never altered, there was a subtle change in his tone. “You’re sure?”

  She nodded.

  He gave a sound of disgust. “If you had told me sooner, I could have confronted Ingram with it.”

  “But what’s to prevent you from going to him with what you know now?”

  “He’ll just deny it. And call you a liar. By now, the piglets are probably gone, sold for whatever they could fetch, so that he could buy whiskey and supplies in town.”

  Pearl felt her heart sink lower with each revelation. Rollie Ingram had been very drunk. And loading his wagon with expensive supplies. It would seem that he hadn’t been able to wait to spend his newfound wealth.

  “And the sow?” she asked.

  “Most probably butchered.”

  “Oh, Cal. I’m so sorry.”

  But Cal wasn’t listening. He was unaware of Pearl’s distress. Unaware of the guilt that hung like a boulder around her heart.

  He turned away from her and climbed to the seat of the carnage. In the barn, he unhitched the horses. And all the while he brooded about Rollie Ingram’s bold intrusion on their land.

  He had to put a stop to this immediately. Unless he made an example of Rollie Ingram, this would merely be the first of many such invasions of the Jewel ranch by outsiders.

  He checked his guns, then saddled his horse. As he rode away, he was forced to admit the truth to himself. He was looking forward to the coming confrontation.

  The Ingram ranch was little more than a shack surrounded by scrub and tumbleweed. The herd, a few dozen head of scrawny cattle, ranged across dry gulches and the foothills of Widow’s Peak foraging for food.

  The first thing Cal noticed when he rode up was the wagon parked behind the shack. Two horses lolled in the afternoon sun, pulling on tufts of grass. A sure sign that Rollie was home. And probably drinking, or he’d be out in the fields, tending to chores.

  Cal rode around to the back and slid from the saddle. Dried blood in the grass caught his eye. There’d been an animal butchered. He touched a hand to the blood, rubbing it between his fingers. No more than a day or two, he calculated. Rollie had been in a hurry.

  The door to the shack was thrown open. Little Daniel Ingram stood in the doorway.

  “My pa wants to know what you’re doing here.”

  “Does he?” Cal took a step closer. “Why doesn’t he do the asking?”

  The boy shrugged. “He sent me.”

  “I can see that.” Cal’s eyes narrowed. “Is he too drunk to stand up?”

  Daniel flinched, then stepped aside as Cal pushed past him, muttering, “Guess I’ll just see for myself.”

  What he saw, as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the cabin, sickened him.

  Rollie Ingram lounged in the only chair in the room. A room cluttered with filth. Animal hides. Saddles. Farm implements. Tools. Even chickens. All probably stolen, and littering every inch of the dirt floor. The air was fetid with the stench of waste, both animal and human.

  Gilbert crouched over a small fire, cooking something in a blackened skillet. When he turned, he bore testimony to a savage beating. One eye was swollen shut. His nose and mouth were bloody, and his cheek was a raw open wound.

  Cal felt something begin to stir deep within him. Something so dark, so dangerous, he had struggled to keep it locked away, buried beneath layers of pain, for years. For he knew that if it was ever to surface, it would take over his senses and destroy all that he’d worked so hard to build. Calling on all his willpower, he tamped it down and struggled to bank the fire that simmered in his soul.

  “So, Ingram. I see you found a way to work off your anger.”

  Rollie slid a glance over his older son. “Made sure the damned fool wouldn’t waste any more grain.” He tipped the jug in his hand and drank deeply, allowing a river of whiskey to run down his chin and the front of his shirt.

  “Why didn’t you just kill him?” Cal’s voice dropped to a soft, dangerous level. “Then you’d be sure he’d never make another mistake.” He paused for just a fraction, then added, “Or are you afraid you’d have no one left to do your dirty work?”

  “There’d still be one left.” Rollie pointed the jug at his younger son. “So Gilbert will take his beatings like a man, if he knows what’s good for him. Or I’ll run him off and let Daniel take his place.”

  So that was what kept the older boy imprisoned in this hellhole. The knowledge that, without him, his younger brother would suffer his fate. Cal’s hatred of Rollie Ingram threatened to choke him.

  The object of his fury lifted the jug and drained it, then sat back, studying Cal through narrowed eyes. “State your business and get off my property, McCabe.”

  “I came about a sow and her litter.” Out of the corner of his eye, Cal saw Daniel’s mouth open. A quick shake of Gilbert’s head had the little boy looking away.

  “A sow and her litter?” Rollie stroked his chin, as if in thought, then said, “Naw. I ain’t in the market for one.”

  “That’s good. Because I’m not selling. I’ve come here for satisfaction for the one you stole.”

  “Stole? You think I stole your pig? You got witnesses, McCabe?”

  “You were seen driving your wagon across Jewel land. With a sow and piglets in the back of the wagon.”

  “You want to search my land, you go right ahead. But you won’t find a sow or her litter.”

  “I’m well aware of that. But if I have to, I’ll send my wranglers to every ranch in the territory. How hard do you think I’ll have to look before I find ranchers who’ll swear you sold them some fine piglets? As for the sow, unless I miss my guess, that pork Gilbert is cooking came from the Jewel ranch.”

  “You’re guessing, McCabe. But you got no proof. So git. And don’t come back without the marshal.”

  Cal took a step closer. In the gloom he saw Rollie’s hand tighten on the handle of the jug. With one hand, he unbuckled his gunbelt and let it fall to the floor. “I don’t need the marshal. This is between you and me, Ingram.”

  Despite the liquor he’d consumed, Rollie moved with amazing agility. He rolled to one side and smashed the jug against the edge of a small table. The
jagged shards of glass he held in his hand glinted in the firelight.

  “Oh, I’ve been itchin’ for a chance like this, McCabe.” He circled, slashing out with the broken jug, laughing each time Cal danced back. “You think you’re so much better’n me. Wormin’ your way into Onyx Jewel’s good graces. Protected by his army of wranglers. And now livin’ high on the hog in that fancy house.”

  “There are no wranglers now, Ingram.” Cal waited, biding his time, giving Rolhe a chance to throw the first punch. He could feel the blood pumping. Could taste the adrenaline flowing. And still he waited, knowing that if he baited Ingram enough, he would strike like the snake he was.

  “It’s just you and me, Rollie. If you’re man enough to fight fair.”

  “Fair?” Rollie laughed and slashed out with the broken jug.

  Cal darted back, but Rollie managed to rake the razor-sharp edges along Cal’s arm, drawing thin streaks of blood that quickly soaked his sleeve.

  “Funny,” Rollie muttered. “Your blood doesn’t look any different than Gilbert’s. All you little piss-ants bleed the same way.”

  Emboldened by his initial success, he moved in closer and slashed out again. This time Cal was ready for him. He caught Ingram by the wrist and twisted until he cried out in pain. The shards of glass fell to the dirt floor of the shack.

  “You broke it!” Rollie shrieked. “Broke my damned wrist!”

  “I hope so.”

  Enraged, Rollie landed a fist in his opponent’s face. Blood spurted from Cal’s nose, drenching the front of his shirt.

  “I’ve been praying you’d do that,” Cal muttered as he tasted blood.

  His first blow to Ingram’s chest sent the burly man staggering backward. Cal followed with a blow to Ingram’s chin that loosened his teeth.

  Rollie pulled a knife from his boot and made a dive toward Cal. Before he could plunge the blade, Cal moved aside, and the blade landed harmlessly in the wall, embedded so deeply into the wood that it couldn’t be removed.

  Desperate, Rollie bent double and plowed his head into Cal’s midsection, sending both men to the floor, where they continued raining blows on each other. The air was filled with grunts, sighs, moans, and the thudding of fists hitting flesh.