The Lone Rancher - By Carol Finch Page 0,51
glanced questioningly at her. “Is Cahill upset with me for taking this job? He was always fair with me. Don’t want hard feelings if I can help it.”
“No, he got Elda in the swap.” Adrianna grinned broadly. “Cahill is in culinary paradise and I acquired the best foremen in the state.”
The cowboy blushed, chuckled, then said. “And I have the prettiest boss in the whole country. You’ll hear no complaints about the good deal I got.”
Although Adrianna was sensitive to comments about being known for her looks and wealth rather than her intelligence, she decided not to call him out. She wasn’t about to lose the best foreman a rancher could have. Quin would have to make do with second best because she needed Rocky’s expertise to make a good start.
Quin swore two blue streaks when he counted the calves in the pasture near the place called Comanche Bluff, a former Comanche campground—the site Lucas Burnett had tried to buy because of its sentimental value to him. Although Quin had told Burnett he could visit the site any time he pleased, he knew his friend hadn’t rustled his cattle. But someone had taken advantage during the town party and the fire.
When he returned to headquarters, it was time for supper and Boston’s long-legged, dapple-gray gelding wasn’t in the barn. His first impulse was to race off to locate her. The recent rustling, the butchered calf and the fires were making him edgy and suspicious. However, he hesitated in thundering off to check on Boston and risk offending her independent streak. Of all the women he knew, she was the only one who didn’t appreciate being fussed over.
Too bad he hadn’t noticed how independent his kid sister had become while underfoot, he mused regretfully. Maybe she wouldn’t have gotten into trouble by trying to prove she could survive in the world without him standing over her. Now she was in Deadwood—of all places!—raising a child alone, if that obnoxious Preston Van Slyck was to be believed.
Quin intended to drive his cattle to the railhead in Dodge—if rustlers didn’t steal the rest of his herd—then ride north to check on Leanna. He was going to drag her home, kicking and screaming if he had to.
“Cahill, a word, please.”
Quin glanced over to see Hiram Butler standing on the stoop. He jogged to the house to stare quizzically at Boston’s man of affairs. “What’s wrong now?”
“At the moment? Nothing that I know of,” Butler replied. “I wondered if I might place my employers’ money and important papers in your safe. I refused to leave it at the abandoned house for someone to swipe while we were away.”
“Certainly. Glad to help.”
Quin strode swiftly to the office to open the cabinet that held the safe. He frowned, bemused, when Butler entered the office carrying Adrianna’s hatbox.
“Boston has a money hat? I thought most heiresses had money trees.”
Hazel eyes drilled into him, clearly unamused by the teasing comment. “Why do you insist on calling Adrianna ‘Boston’?” Butler demanded grouchily.
“Because it amuses me.”
“You have a peculiar sense of humor, Cahill.”
“Why do you go by Butler, Hiram? You know everyone assumes you are the butler.”
The older man retrieved several stacks of banknotes from the box, along with cashbooks and ledgers he handled as if they were solid gold. “You can tell a great deal about a man’s depth of character when he thinks you’re a servant,” Butler replied. “I used the tactic constantly while interviewing agents who wanted the McKnights to invest with them.”
“Subtle,” Quin remarked. “I like it.”
After Quin locked away the banknotes, ledgers and official-looking papers, he heard the front door open and shut. For the first time in two years, he wasn’t the only one going in and out of it, he realized. Temporarily, he qualified. When Boston’s home aired out she and her entourage—Elda included—would ride off. Quin would rattle around in silence again. It was a dispiriting thought.
“Cahill!” Boston called from the foyer.
“In the office,” he called back. When she breezed through the door he raised a curious brow. “Did you have cattle stolen, just as I did?”
She nodded her disheveled head. “A dozen longhorns. We found them in a box canyon, waiting to be driven away. Did you find yours?”
Quin shook his head. “I’ll make a thorough search tomorrow. Hopefully, I can recover them.”
He noticed the folded paper in her hand. “What’s this, an invitation to another party? Ca-Cross must be the new social hub of the state. Imagine that.”
Butler rolled his eyes