“It would be suicide to come here. I’ve told every man on this ranch to shoot the man on sight if he dares to come near. And that mine is a fiction! Sam made it up. We can’t give him what we don’t have. Bannock’ll move on to greener pastures.”
“It wasn’t a fiction. Samuel O’Toole showed up in town with fine ore. Had money to spend. Most miners live hand to mouth. Sam did not.”
Bryce sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Maybe he found a trace vein, as his neighbors did. Maybe his mother left him a small fortune. I’ve told you before, Sam liked a bit of mystery. But the fact remains—Sam left us nothing but land.”
Odessa turned back to her desk and tapped the end of her pen on the wood. “But Reid does not know that.”
“Reid Bannock has no job. He’s been stripped of everything but time. He’ll want to get on with it—on with life.”
“You forget his ways. He’ll have money, when and if he needs it. And you don’t think he’ll consider it worth his time to come here to torment us? Retribution for sending him to prison?”
“Bannock’s mean, but he’s not a fool. There’s one of him and twelve of us. Trust me, he doesn’t have the resources to hire help like he did the first time he came. He’s done, Dess. It’s over.” He lay back wearily, bringing the baby to his chest.
Odessa closed her eyes and set aside her pen, then cradled her forehead, elbows to desk. She sighed heavily. “It was just too much, finding out about that threat, on top of all we’ve encountered over the last weeks,” she said.
“I know it. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to fret.”
She longed for him to rise, to come to her, but he stayed where he was, separate. “You put down so many of Harold’s horses,” she said, barely stifling her anger, wanting him to relive the pain of it again, wanting him to take some of the pain from her shoulders.
“I had no choice. All those horses were exposed and showing the signs. Swollen mandibles. Coughing.”
“Why not wait, to see if they might recover?”
“Because I couldn’t!” His voice rose, impatient. “Nine times out of ten, they die anyway. I couldn’t risk it, Dess!” He got up and handed her the baby. “Don’t you see? Strangles has a way of spreading. It puts ranchers out of business—small and large. We can’t … we’ve already lost almost a hundred …” He shook his head as if exasperated and turned away.
“Wait. Where are you going?”
“Out. I told the men to tend to their own supper dishes, that you were feeling poorly.”
“Out where?” she called to his retreating back, as he hurried down the stairs.
“Out!” he yelled. After a moment, she heard the front door open and then slam shut.
And never had Odessa McAllan felt more lonely.
Moira turned to resume her walk around the leeward side of the ship, out of the sea’s spray. A small umbrella, held at an angle against the wind and light rain, served as her remaining defense against the elements. Despite her best efforts she could still feel her hair pulling out from the tight bun, the tendrils curling in the moist air. But for the first time in a week, she felt as if she could take a deep breath. She knew it wasn’t fitting, a woman alone out on deck, but she had pointedly refused several gentlemen who had offered to accompany her. She only wished to be alone. And not indoors another moment.
She passed the bank of cabins, all with tiny windows in a neat line, then turned to lean against the rail, ignoring the shiver that ran down her back from the cold and damp. She was determined to stay out here as long as possible before returning to her cabin to snuggle beneath the blankets for a nap.
She closed her eyes and listened to the whine and thump of the steam engines, the thump of each blade as it dug into the waves, propelling them forward to America, sweet America, still weeks away. It was an act of endurance, she decided, travel
“It wasn’t a fiction. Samuel O’Toole showed up in town with fine ore. Had money to spend. Most miners live hand to mouth. Sam did not.”
Bryce sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Maybe he found a trace vein, as his neighbors did. Maybe his mother left him a small fortune. I’ve told you before, Sam liked a bit of mystery. But the fact remains—Sam left us nothing but land.”
Odessa turned back to her desk and tapped the end of her pen on the wood. “But Reid does not know that.”
“Reid Bannock has no job. He’s been stripped of everything but time. He’ll want to get on with it—on with life.”
“You forget his ways. He’ll have money, when and if he needs it. And you don’t think he’ll consider it worth his time to come here to torment us? Retribution for sending him to prison?”
“Bannock’s mean, but he’s not a fool. There’s one of him and twelve of us. Trust me, he doesn’t have the resources to hire help like he did the first time he came. He’s done, Dess. It’s over.” He lay back wearily, bringing the baby to his chest.
Odessa closed her eyes and set aside her pen, then cradled her forehead, elbows to desk. She sighed heavily. “It was just too much, finding out about that threat, on top of all we’ve encountered over the last weeks,” she said.
“I know it. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to fret.”
She longed for him to rise, to come to her, but he stayed where he was, separate. “You put down so many of Harold’s horses,” she said, barely stifling her anger, wanting him to relive the pain of it again, wanting him to take some of the pain from her shoulders.
“I had no choice. All those horses were exposed and showing the signs. Swollen mandibles. Coughing.”
“Why not wait, to see if they might recover?”
“Because I couldn’t!” His voice rose, impatient. “Nine times out of ten, they die anyway. I couldn’t risk it, Dess!” He got up and handed her the baby. “Don’t you see? Strangles has a way of spreading. It puts ranchers out of business—small and large. We can’t … we’ve already lost almost a hundred …” He shook his head as if exasperated and turned away.
“Wait. Where are you going?”
“Out. I told the men to tend to their own supper dishes, that you were feeling poorly.”
“Out where?” she called to his retreating back, as he hurried down the stairs.
“Out!” he yelled. After a moment, she heard the front door open and then slam shut.
And never had Odessa McAllan felt more lonely.
Moira turned to resume her walk around the leeward side of the ship, out of the sea’s spray. A small umbrella, held at an angle against the wind and light rain, served as her remaining defense against the elements. Despite her best efforts she could still feel her hair pulling out from the tight bun, the tendrils curling in the moist air. But for the first time in a week, she felt as if she could take a deep breath. She knew it wasn’t fitting, a woman alone out on deck, but she had pointedly refused several gentlemen who had offered to accompany her. She only wished to be alone. And not indoors another moment.
She passed the bank of cabins, all with tiny windows in a neat line, then turned to lean against the rail, ignoring the shiver that ran down her back from the cold and damp. She was determined to stay out here as long as possible before returning to her cabin to snuggle beneath the blankets for a nap.
She closed her eyes and listened to the whine and thump of the steam engines, the thump of each blade as it dug into the waves, propelling them forward to America, sweet America, still weeks away. It was an act of endurance, she decided, travel
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