The Lone Rancher - By Carol Finch Page 0,53
course.” She met his gaze head-on. “But racing off in the dark, with a fistful of money, doesn’t guarantee you’ll receive any valuable information.” She flung out her hand in frustration. “What if I received a note offering information about who stole my Herefords and planted them in your pasture? What if the sender named you as the guilty party? That wouldn’t make it necessarily so, would it? We are discussing outlaws, Cahill. They have no credibility.”
“Unless this unidentified informant saw or overheard what happened to my parents and wants traveling money so he can hightail it out of the county before he’s hunted down and silenced,” Quin speculated.
“He makes a valid point,” Butler said to Boston.
“Valid or not, I still don’t like it,” she grumbled.
“Neither do I,” Butler admitted. “It’s too dangerous.”
Boston crossed her arms over her chest and stared unblinkingly at Quin. “Then it’s settled. You are not going.”
“You and Butler don’t get a vote,” he said dictatorially.
He lurched toward the cabinet, then hunkered down to retrieve the money from the safe.
“Be careful that you don’t take Adrianna’s money for this foolhardy crusade of yours,” Butler said, and scowled.
Quin glanced over his shoulder and smiled faintly. “I have plenty on hand since I withdrew money from the bank last week to make payroll. Not to worry, Hiram.”
“Dinner is served,” Beatrice announced from the hall. “It’s one of Elda’s mouthwatering specialties.”
“Tell Elda we’ll be there directly.” Boston turned back to Quin. “If you insist on this dangerous folly, then I’m going with you.”
Quin stared her down. “No, you aren’t,” he said slowly and succinctly. “I expressly forbid it. This is not your concern, Boston.”
She tilted her chin to a defiant angle. “Yes, it is. You are our gracious host. If you get yourself robbed and killed, then where are we supposed to go? My house hasn’t aired out completely. And I’m not going to ride back and forth from town to see how many cattle were rustled during the night. You do not invite guests to your home, then get yourself ambushed. If you had proper Eastern manners you would know that.”
He almost smiled at her sassy retort, but the possibility of his parents being senselessly killed for money and a wagonload of supplies weighed heavily on his disposition.
“Think it over during supper,” she insisted as she whirled toward the hall. “Maybe delicious food and time will bring you back to your senses.”
When Butler turned to leave, Quin said, “Hiram, I know you don’t like me much but I need a favor.”
Butler pivoted around to give Quin the evil eye. “I wouldn’t like any man who slept with Adrianna, especially one who wasn’t married to her.”
Quin shifted uncomfortably beneath Butler’s narrow-eyed glare. Then a thought occurred to him and he smiled wryly. “But you’re going to keep silent and grant my favor because you are sleeping with Bea. You don’t want me to throw it in your face, do you?”
Butler scowled. “What’s the favor, Cahill?”
“Make sure Boston doesn’t follow me tonight.”
Butler nodded, then headed for the door. “I had planned to do that without a prompt from you, Cahill. Consider it done.”
When Butler exited, Quin tucked the stack of money in the bottom desk drawer for safekeeping. He was going to meet the mysterious informant tonight, come hell or high water—or both.
There was nothing Boston could do to stop him, short of shooting him down, before someone else beat her to it.
Chapter Nine
Adrianna had a bad feeling about Cahill’s evening excursion. Blast it, too many things could go wrong. There were enough problems with the rustling and arson that plagued both ranches. True, other ranchers had been targeted—Womack, Fitzgerald and Burnett, to name only a few. But it seemed to Adrianna that the most frequent criminal activity centered on Cahill and her and was written off to the supposed feud between them.
She had no idea what that implied—maybe nothing. Yet, she wondered if someone was using the feud to explain the rustling and fires, and letting the “curse” take the blame. If someone might have upped the ante to extort more money by preying on Quin’s emotions concerning his parents’ deaths.
What better way to get a man to do your bidding than to suggest the family wagon wreck was no accident? Adrianna didn’t trust this mysterious informant. Unfortunately, Quin was personally involved and burdened with grief and guilt. He was risking peril by venturing out alone at night, carrying money. His family had imploded after the untimely deaths. He