the truth would have sent her fleeing in the other direction.
The other cowboys in the bunkhouse had begun to notice how much attention she paid Joe. If they teased him, it was out of envy. Any one of them would’ve given his boots and saddle for the chance to hold her hand and enjoy the sunshine of her dimpled smile.
Leaving the stallion, Joe climbed over the fence and joined her. “You’ve done wonders with that horse, Joe,” she said. “But I was thinking, he needs a name. Don’t you agree?”
“Good idea,” he said. “Do you have a name in mind?”
“I was thinking we could call him Dusk, because of his color. Do you like that?”
“I think it’s perfect. But you should ask your father. After all, the stallion is his.”
“Daddy won’t care. But I’ll ask him anyway—after you and I get back from Blue Moon.”
“You want to go to Blue Moon?” Joe had put off going to the town, or anyplace else where he might run into people from the Calder ranch. But he knew he couldn’t avoid the place forever.
“Don’t look like such a dunce,” Amelia teased. “I need some things from the store, and it’s a nice, sunny day for a ride. Daddy already told me I could have you drive me.”
“Fine,” Joe said. “It could get chilly on the way. Go get something warm to wear. I’ll hitch up the buggy.”
As he wheeled the buggy out of the shed, laid out the harness, and led the glossy matched bays out of their stalls, Joe’s thoughts were moving and shifting like a river in a spring flood. For the past few days he’d puzzled over Hollister’s offer. Why him, a poor young cowboy? And what was the man thinking? Hollister was no fool. He wouldn’t do anything without a reason.
Then last night, lying in his bunk, a memory had surfaced—the day Zeke Taylor had invited him into Dodge City, and the discovery that he’d been chosen to go only because Zeke wanted to be the one in charge.
Hollister’s motives were the same—just on a larger scale. Match his willful daughter to a young man he could control, someone who would do what he was told and never be a threat to his power.
And there was more. Joe had looked into the homestead laws that dictated who could file for the 160-acre land parcels. A married man over eighteen could get twice as much land by filing for himself and his wife. If Hollister married off his daughter to a young man who wouldn’t oppose him, he could add 320 acres to his own holdings.
With that sudden epiphany had come anger, followed by an icy determination. Loren Hollister wasn’t the only one who could play power games, Joe had vowed. He would watch and learn from the man, but his only loyalty would be to himself.
As he honed the rules of the game, he would keep his own counsel, trust no man or woman, and use any means he could to get and keep what was rightfully his.
That’s exactly what Benteen Calder would have done. Joe would follow his example until he could beat Calder at his own game.
* * *
By the time Joe had the team hitched to the buggy, Amelia had come outside wrapped in a woolen shawl and carrying her shopping basket. Minutes later they’d pulled out of the yard and were following the worn wheel ruts that passed for a road between the outlying ranches and the ramshackle community of Blue Moon, which, in the last couple of years, had sprouted from the prairie like a crop of wild mushrooms on a rotting log.
The town had taken root when an enterprising man named Fat Frank Fitzsimmons had lost a wagon wheel on the prairie and decided to set up a saloon. Blue Moon now boasted a general store with a bar in the back, a blacksmith’s shop, and two cabins for the Fitzsimmons family. It wasn’t much, but as more families moved into the area, the place was bound to grow. New buildings—maybe a restaurant or even a real saloon, were already going up. Hammers rang out on the autumn air as workers hurried to cover the frames with planking before winter set in.
* * *
Joe felt a prickle of wariness as he helped Amelia down from the buggy and walked with her to open and hold the door of the general store. There was no telling who was going to be inside, but he’d