The Lone Rancher - By Carol Finch Page 0,83

you in her image…without success, thankfully. I like you just the way you are.”

Adrianna hugged him close. “Thank you for trying to make him see who I really was, not who he wanted me to be. As for the use of the house, it’s my good deed for the year,” she said, grinning. “Besides, you and Bea are my family.”

And what a shame Quin didn’t have the support and connection with his siblings that she had with her adopted family. She would make a point to hassle him about that. Maybe his siblings had mellowed after their lengthy separation. Perhaps they wanted to reconcile—and were waiting for someone like Quin, the eldest—to initiate a reunion.

She stepped back, then patted Butler’s cheek. “If you wouldn’t mind helping Elda gather her things, I’ll make the rounds to pay the cowboys.”

Butler nodded his brown head, squared his shoulders, then strode off. She smiled wryly. For all Butler’s stoic manners, he had a sentimental heart, the sweet, endearing man.

Lurching around, Adrianna grabbed an oversize pouch from the desk to carry the payroll. Thank goodness those rustlers were in jail so she didn’t have to fret about being attacked for the money. Speaking of money, she planned to offer a loan to Quin since the money for his payroll had been stolen during his attempt to buy information at Phantom Springs. He was likely too proud to accept the loan, but she knew he hadn’t had time to visit the bank after incarcerating the rustlers.

She glanced northwest, hoping Rocky and Cahill would return with the confiscated cattle, hoping other thieves weren’t lurking to take potshots at them. Quin didn’t need holes blasted in him. He hadn’t yet recovered from having his skull hammered.

“I’m ready!” Elda called from the porch, jolting Adrianna from her pensive musings.

The cook stood beside several suitcases and a sack of special utensils she’d brought all the way from Boston. When Isaac Moss, a tall, clean-cut but young cowboy brought the buggy, Elda scuttled down the steps and climbed onto the seat—with Isaac’s assistance. A moment later, he had the luggage loaded and Adrianna took up the reins. She glanced northwest again but there was still no sign of Rocky and Cahill—and that made her anxious.

“That was an incredibly nice thing you did for Butler and Bea,” Elda said as she settled herself on the seat. “Glad they finally decided to tie the knot.” She stared pointedly at Adrianna. “All that sneaking around at night isn’t good.”

Adrianna ignored the comment and found herself wondering what it would be like to be married. The only man she’d consider was the one who’d never ask. Ironic, she mused with a remorseful smile. She’d heard proposals galore for seven or eight years—but never from the right man.

When they arrived at 4C, Adrianna called to Skeeter Gregory. The wiry, thirty-year-old cowboy jogged from the barn to help Elda down, then he scooped up her luggage and utensils.

“Nice to have you back, ma’am,” Skeeter drawled. “Sure have been missing those mouthwatering cakes and cookies you sent to the bunkhouse for me and the other men.”

Adrianna watched the plump-faced cook beam in satisfaction, then she patted Skeeter’s leathery cheek. “You can expect more desserts once I’m settled in, my dear boy.”

Apparently, Elda, who hadn’t married and had no children, had decided to mother Cahill and his hired hands. No doubt, they showered her with constant compliments. Elda felt more useful and needed than she had at the mansion in Boston.

Adrianna understood because she felt more alive in Texas than making a halfhearted attempt to become the woman her father expected her to be.

Once Elda was upstairs putting away her belongings, Adrianna ambled back to the buggy. She frowned warily when she noticed the same gawky Mexican boy, riding a burro, who had delivered the anonymous note the night Quin got clobbered and set up for murder.

“For Señor Cahill,” the boy said with a heavy Spanish accent. Then he extended the folded note.

“Who sent you?” Adrianna demanded.

The boy shrugged beneath his tattered poncho. “It was on my burro’s saddle, as before, along with a few pesos.”

“You saw no one?” she questioned intently.

“No, señorita,” he said before he rode away.

Adrianna unfolded the note, and noticed the handwriting was different from the first one. Yet, the message was similar.

Bring two thousand dollars to Triple Creek to buy information about Ruby and Earl Cahill’s wagon wreck.

She cursed sourly. The note gave no hint that robbery or accidental manslaughter was involved. But Adrianna