Wedding At Rocking S Ranch. Kathryn Albright
is Mrs. Douglas—” Wolf began.
“I know who she is.” Barker interrupted him. An ingratiating smile inched up the older man’s face as he came down the front steps. “A pleasure, Mrs. Stewart. We’ve been busy getting things ready for your arrival. I’m Cleve Barker, the manager here at the Rocking S.”
Barker’s attitude took Wolf by surprise. Courtesy was not part of the man’s makeup, which immediately put Wolf on alert. Yet Mrs. Stewart seemed won over by the foreman, answering his greeting with a relieved smile. Wolf frowned at that. Barker’s graciousness was likely insincere, but it sure made his own greeting less than hospitable. Guess he could have been more welcoming.
“Then I suspect I shall have to forgive you for not meeting me at the train,” Mrs. Stewart said.
“Oh, I knew Wolf here would see to your transportation. Or the sheriff. Or any number of others in town. We have been preparing for your stay here ever since receiving your letter. I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am. A sad day indeed for all of us here when we learned of Doug’s passing. Particularly for me, seeing as how he was my cousin.”
Her smile—the first Wolf had seen—revealed dimples. “Douglas mentioned that you are related.”
“Second cousins. His mother’s side. Which means that you must call me Cleve. We are family now too.”
Wolf pressed his lips together, skeptical of this side of the man. Barker oozed an oily kind of charm that put Wolf on edge.
Mrs. Stewart allowed Barker, his hand on the small of her back, to escort her up the steps to the porch. He opened the door for her. “Come right in.”
When Wolf would follow, Barker stepped in front of him, blocking his way. “I can take things from here.” His hard gaze challenged Wolf to say otherwise.
Wolf didn’t like this. Something didn’t sit well with him about the entire situation. “I figured I’d carry up her trunk.”
Barker looked over Wolf’s shoulder to the buggy. “Leave it on the porch. My men can bring it inside later.” He didn’t budge, still blocking Wolf’s path.
His men? Wolf knew Barker wanted the ranch. Once he had learned Doug wasn’t coming back, he’d wasted little time changing things around the place to suit him. But the fact remained it was Mrs. Stewart’s property. At that thought, an uneasy feeling settled in his bones. Was he leaving her with a snake in a snake pit?
Mrs. Stewart stood at the bottom of the stairs, ready to ascend, her hand on the railing.
“Ma’am? You sure about this?” he called out over Barker’s shoulder.
“I’m fine, Mr. Wolf. I do thank you for bringing me here and your help with my luggage.”
Guess there wasn’t much more he could do, no matter his unease with the situation. He tipped his hat to her and turned back toward the buggy.
As he hoisted the trunk to his shoulder and then deposited it on the porch, he couldn’t get his mind off the situation and the vulnerable look he’d seen in her eyes when he’d helped her down from the buggy. It was that look that made him hesitate about leaving her here.
Barker didn’t want him around, that much was obvious, but that had always been the way between them. When Barker had arrived looking for work, he hadn’t liked that Doug turned to Wolf for advice about the ranch instead of him. Wolf had been a part of this ranch since the beginning, but Barker didn’t care about the history between Doug and Wolf. He figured that family came first—no matter how loose the tie. And he knew how to work that connection with Doug. The man might be several years older and rough around the edges, but since Doug had no family around, he wanted Barker to stay.
Barker had worked as a ranch hand before he’d come to find work at the Rocking S. A few decisions he’d made at the beginning made it obvious to both Doug and Wolf that he didn’t have the experience to be a foreman. He needed overseeing until he wised up. That’s why, when Doug left for the East, he’d asked Wolf to check in on the place every now and then and especially to be there at the stockyards when the cattle were sold. Doug figured that with more experience and instruction, Barker would eventually learn the ropes.
Barker took instruction from Doug, but when it came to Wolf, from day one the man turned a deaf ear. Doug knew it but figured it would eventually work its way out between the two of them. Doug, always the optimist. But once his cousin left for the East, Barker changed—moving into the big house and helping with less of the physical work. By the time everyone learned of Doug’s passing, Barker acted as though he owned and ran the entire operation.
In the year that Doug had been gone and knowing Barker like he did now, Wolf wouldn’t put it past him to step right in, pretending to comfort Mrs. Stewart in her grief and while he was at it, take what he wanted while she was at her most vulnerable. That could be the ranch. That could be her. Likely it would be both.
He looked out over the ranch, remembering a time before the outbuildings and the main house were there, a time before the few fences had been erected to keep the cattle away from the large garden and out of the corn. Over the years there had been lots of changes, but the land still called to him. It would always call to him. Since they’d learned of Doug’s death, all the hired men carried on doing what they knew best—ranching—but knew that sooner or later they would all get word on what would become of the ranch and, by extension, them.
In the corral, Jordan Hughes worked with a horse, getting it used to the feel of a saddle. Wolf walked over and leaned against the railing, watching the young cowhand work with the two-year-old gelding. The kid was entirely too timid, but he’d learn. And being cautious was always better than being foolhardy.
Wolf watched for a few minutes, offering a suggestion once and feeling pleased that Jordan tried it and it worked on the horse. Then he headed over to the cookhouse to say hello to Otis.
As he approached, he heard humming around the back of the building and followed the sound. Otis sat on an old straight-backed chair, a bucket filled with potatoes at his feet as he peeled the one in his hands. He looked up when Wolf appeared and wiped a hand on his dirty apron. His face, swarthy and lined from a life in the sun, managed to rearrange itself into a grin.
“You’ll be cooking for more. Mrs. Stewart has arrived.”
“Figured that was her in the buggy.” Otis tilted his head, squinting into the sun to study Wolf. “You stayin’ too?”
“Might. Barker’s acting strange.”
Otis grinned. “Well, he probably don’t know how to act around a proper woman. All he’s ever been with is Gertie from the saloon. Nice as she is, he still don’t treat her very good.”
That didn’t do much in the way of reassuring Wolf. “How would you know?”
“Oh, I get into town every now and then.”
Wolf grunted. Now that he thought about it, Otis did stop into his parents’ dry goods store to get spices that his mother grew and dried. He just hadn’t realized the old coot stopped at the saloon too.
“’Course lately, Barker’s had Gertie out here for a few days at a time. She’s been gettin’ real comfortable in the house. Guess things will be different with Mrs. Stewart around. Been ten years since the first Mrs. Stewart. She kept us all on our toes, don’t you know.”
Wolf remembered. Douglas’s mother had had high expectations of everyone and everything, but then she had high expectations for herself too. She had a gentle way with all of it, and the ranch hands respected her. It would be interesting to see how the new Mrs. Stewart fitted in with things.
“When I saw the buggy, I started in on these spuds. Got a special meal planned.” He turned over the potato in his hand, critically examining it for any remaining peel. Then he squinted back up at Wolf, studying him. “How long are you fixin’ to stay?”
Although Wolf hadn’t made up his mind, Otis