Inheritance's Price: Lace and Leather

By Whitney Buckley

A tragic accident leaves eighteen-year-old Claire Burlow with a choice, she can have her inheritance, her family or her future. Try as she might, she cannot have all three. Claire struggles to keep her family and their ranch on the Wyoming plains afloat, but she finds herself fighting against more than Mother Nature to keep it running. Someone is out to destroy the Burlow ranch. Claire finds herself fighting a battle; one she can't fight alone.

When two hired cowboys are not enough, a neighboring rancher offers a hand. Jeffery Meyers, a man whose last name makes Pa's lip curl. Claire has her own reasons for disliking the eldest of the Meyers Clan, but he may be the only way she can save her family's ranch. Can she trust him or should she turn in her six-shooter and split skirts for her grandmother's high society afternoon teas in Chicago?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Writeful Journey
• Release date: Sep 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9781733626224

Book preview

Prologue

Chapter Separator

Dust and grit scraped the eyes, bronzed the skin. Wyoming wind whipped dirt from under the cattle’s hooves into the faces of the riders, who dared to move the Texas longhorns across the prairie grass. Three riders approached the hazy scene.

Watch. Came the command from the center man. Both greenhorns followed his eyes.

But—

The man raised his hand to halt their words. The new hires not wanting to be sent down the trail the first day, heeded the man’s command. They turned their gaze to the rider-horse duo that their boss had pointed out. The horse and rider worked as one, bouncing back and forth, cutting an old girl from the chorus of bailing cows that surrounded her. Another rider came in between the separated cow and the main herd, moving it in with one of the smaller herds being held by other riders and their equestrian companions. The melody of these riders continued until they had divided their cattle from those of their neighbors.

As a couple cowboys set a fire to brand the five stray cows they had found, the exhausted rider that had been doing the separating, approached the three onlookers.

We got a large group of Meyers’. What do you want us to do with ‘em? the approaching rider asked.

You leave ‘em. Him and his boys will be along, the Boss answered.

And what happens when he meets us with a bunch of our own?

The two new hires glanced at each other. Their horses shifted. Not sure of their boss’ reaction to the bold young long-haired Indian, the two men edged their horses back.

Marv knows me well enough.

Aye, that he does. But with all due respect, Pa, I’d like to head them his way. The rider glanced at the young boys flanking the boss’ horse. I’ll take ‘em. They look like they could use some pointers before they stampede the profit right out of our cattle.

Claire, your horse is worn out. Pa glanced back at the two new fellas. And you’ve had your fun with the greenhorns.

Ah shucks, Pa. Can’t help it if Eastern women are boring. She nudged her large-brimmed hat up, revealing a feminine face with large caramel chocolate eyes and a guarded smile. Claire nodded to both new hires of the Barlow ranch, jumped down off her horse, and gave him a drink from her canteen. The two boys, men really, watched in amazement as the horse’s lip tipped the canteen up emptying the contents. She returned her attention back to her father. We will keep a slow pace.

Claire jumped into the saddle and signaled the boys to follow her. Both glanced at their boss, who headed towards the large herd baring the connected EB brand. When the two hesitated, Claire hollered. He ain’t gonna show you the ropes and I won’t wait for ya.

They spurred their horses after the boss’s daughter. Alright, you can keep your seats. Here is your chance to prove yourselves. Keep this bunch with the ‘M’ on their haunches ahead and to the north of our bunch. Roonie and I aren’t up to separating again in the middle of the train holding pens.

Why are we provin’ ourselves to a girl? You, the foreman? one of the boys asked, his surprise unmasked. She assumed he was close to her age, perhaps younger by his cocky attitude.

Claire chuckled. Not yet. David’s your foreman. But he is tired of training the new greenhorns how to trail cattle. You are welcome to head back and join our herd. You may or may not have a job by the time you reach our herd. She gestured to the shrinking group of cattle behind them.

The smart-mouthed one swung his horse around and headed back to the large herd. Claire shook it off. A girl on the trail had to earn respect. She doubted that one respected anybody. Male or female. A smile lit her face. How she would love to watch David send him packing by the end of the cattle drive. Watching him leave, she added to his companion, You are welcome to chance it.

No thanks, Ma’am.

I am dressed the same as you. Don’t be calling me ma’am. Which confederate state are you from?

He swallowed. Alabama, ma’—. He choked on the last word and was silent. A crimson stain washed his cheeks.

Alright ‘Bama, since there’s only two of us, we will have to move our horses more. I doubt Pa or David will send us another rider. You keep the cattle moving from the back. We are headed north. If you see one veer off towards the south to our herd, shut it down. Get between them and make some noise. Avoid the horns. They aren’t pets. With that warning she moved away, hollering at the cattle and slapping her leather-encased hand across her thigh. She might have been too confident with her father, she thought as she watched the new hire periodically. He mimicked her movements. Maybe this one would work out. Pa always had rotten luck picking new hires. Claire had not been pulling that cocky greenhorns’ leg. David, their ranch foreman, hated training because he’d done it for so long over the past eight years. He had no patience for Eastern boys, who knew nothing about roping, branding, or driving cattle.

‘Bama wasn’t doing too bad for the time being. They were moving a little slower than Claire would have liked but Roonie needed the break. As the gulf between the herds widened, Claire relaxed a little more. They would reach the Meyers’ outfit before Cheyenne. Dust on the horizon ahead of them erased all ease. She raced to head off the head cattle and shifted the herd’s direction towards the base of a few small hills. Bama followed her lead.

Once the cattle reached the base, and he was within shouting distance, Claire, hollered, stampede! Try to keep them against the hills. She paused as the cattle drowned her out. Then she tried again, shouting, If they come at you, get out of the way.

With the hills acting as a small barrier on the other side, Claire could only wish for the stampede to change course or run past. The herd Claire and ‘Bama held became restless, pawing at the ground. The thunderous roar of hooves, followed by the bawling and reflection off the longhorns, only offered the simple comfort that it was not a bison stampede. Cowboy forms appeared through the dust. The herd they held fed from the panic of their brothers. With a whisper to Roonie, Sorry, Boy, she let go of her dangerous position between the manic cows.

Confusion spread across ‘Bama’s face. Claire could only wave him out from between the two herds. She didn’t wait to see his fate. This was the Meyers outfit. Had to be with the large herd they had stampeding across the lands. Irritated at their failure to control their animals, Claire pushed Roonie to head off the cattle as best she could before they reached her father’s herd. The leading cows were already slowing. Their tongues were hanging out of their mouth, with foam stringing from their gums. She gave them a wide berth and reached down for the holster strapped to her waist. Letting her reins slacken, she held onto the beast with her legs to load the gun as she neared the tiring front animals with a yelp. She hollered. Beat the air with her hat to turn them, but they continued south toward her family’s herd. Drenched in sweat, she bit the finger of her leather glove. With her hand loose, she grabbed her pistol and fired a shot in the air. The exhausted cattle turned, darting away from the noise. Another shot followed behind hers. Thank goodness, he is still mimicking me.

A third shot. Claire glanced back at the rider behind her heading off cattle. The liver chestnut horse gave no doubt who it was. The second shot had been his. She grit her teeth and refocused on leading the lathered cows around. Away from her father’s herd. Of course, it had been him. She should have let him meet Pa. Then, he might have got what came to him. Claire repented her thoughts. She did not want Pa to meet Jeffrey.

Roonie stumbled. Claire regained her seat in the saddle as her horse found his footing. The horse needed a slower pace. Unlike most, Claire cared for her animal, never whipping him or overusing her friend. She depended on him in her job and for her life in the open lands of Wyoming territory. Roonie slowed to a walk and they waited to be overcome by the dark sorrel, that never came. The cattle had slowed to a walking pace, mouths open. The cowhands surrounded the herd.

It didn’t take long before Jace Meyers, the youngest of the Meyers boys, made his way around the circle to Latigo, the beautiful sorrel. And the man she despised, despite her mother’s plea to forgive and love her neighbor. Claire had tried. She prayed every night and always thought she had conquered her hate for the man until he did something else.

Jeffrey removed his hat and wiped his brow with his dirt covered shirt. His black hair was matted to his head in a circle where his hat band had been. He pulled his bandanna down off his face, revealing week old whiskers. He winked. Claire had an uncontrollable desire to stick out her tongue. She looked away.

Bama and Jace hailed each other as they crossed paths. Bama’s horse looked near breathless as his rider. The poor horse was lathered in sweat with a small gash on his hindquarters.

Take a horn?

Ah, yeah, didn’t follow ya out as fast. Them suckers— he inhaled—crazy.

Like your first day? she smiled. It was over. Their job was done and the ranch might have a decent new hand. She jumped down and grabbed ointment and a rag from her saddlebags. After instructing Bama to hold his horse close and talk to him, Claire examined the cut. With the blood washed off, the cut wasn’t much more than a knick. She coated the injury with the thick ointment.

Jeffrey, nice move on the gun. How d’you get your guns off that fast? Claire caught Jace’s comment as he and his eldest brother joined them.

Told ya’ those ain’t just used for rattlesnake practice. His blue eyes held Claire’s, daring her. She would not take the bait. Her lesson had been learned years ago. Besting a man or boy, as it had been, in front of their peers lead to jeers and sneers from every male around.

She could not, however, keep silent. Managed to run a few pounds off your beef though. Tell me, do you enjoy showing off your skill in handling difficult situations, or are you really that bad at running your outfit?

Someone whistled under their breath. Jeffrey straightened in the saddle. His voice was low but forcibly calm. Neither, as well you know.

Jace interjected, What are you doing here Claire?

Happy to ignore the fury penetrating from his brother. Claire answered, Just added a few more to your herd. Most of them old enough for Chicago’s train. With one quick dig, Thanks for meeting us. She turned her horse away towards the south. ‘Bama, let’s go.

Jeffrey hollered out after their retreating backs, Thanks, Clarissa.

Claire bit her tongue and tapped Roonie’s sides with her spurs. Only her mother called her that.

* * *

Covered in a thick coating of dust and muck, they made Cheyenne in four days. It had been a day longer than expected and Pa was spitting mad. They had missed the last train, and there wouldn’t be another until morning. The cowhands settled the longhorns on the south end of town close to the stockyard. A few snuck off to the brothels and billiard rooms, only to find themselves drunk, fired, and out of a day’s wages when they meandered back. David ran the ranch as his own and put up with nothing. Claire chuckled as the men whined to Pa and were pointed right back in the direction they had come. Loyalty was a requirement for a cowboy and that meant sticking around until the job was done. Once business with the rowdy boys finished, the rest pushed toward the rail’s stock cars.

Black leather slid from the saddle straps. Bullwhips snapped. Cattle bulked at the ramp into the wooden cars. Their horns caught and two went down in the midst of the rest. Claire backed off as the tangled cattle came back up. It was on again. Bellers, shouts, hoofs, cow, and horse tangoed back and forth. Six hours later, their cattle were counted and loaded for Chicago.

David walked up with a pouch from the buyers and dealt the men each their wages. Claire waited on the edge of the group, knowing she would be skipped. A little tingle of jealousy coursed through her. She had to remind herself that she was helping her family and was not a hired hand. Still, she wished for some independence a wage would give her. As she wandered away to mail a letter for her mother, David grabbed her shoulder. He shoved two twenty pieces into her hand. Claire watched him glance back at Pa, who was deep in conversation with another stock owner. David shrugged and headed his own direction to buy the boys a round.

Claire fingered the pieces and tucked them into her pocket.

Finally, getting your dues?

Jeffrey approached from the corrals. He didn’t go unnoticed by Pa. Me, ah, no. She dug her toe into the soft dirt. Pa was moving toward them. Claire mounted her horse.

Can’t give me the time of day now? Jeffrey teased.

Afraid not. But I am sure they can, for a price. She nodded to the ladies staring at them from the boardwalk.

And you?

Priceless.

Pa was on them, huffing. Meyers, get away from my daughter.

Claire tipped her hat and tapped Roonie forward. She looked back over her shoulder. Both of Jeffrey’s hands were in fists by his sides, but he had only glanced at her Pa and walked away. Claire frowned. That man and his family were more trouble than they were worth, but Pa didn’t have to go chasing him off. She could handle Jeffrey Meyers. She had several years ago and she’d do it again if she had too.

Chapter 1

Chapter Separator

Beef round-up meant few bachelors were present in church. Claire breathed a sigh of relief. For the last two years, Ma had developed the awful habit of pointing out one or two bachelors that could be husband material. After the poor turn-out of decent men in church, Ma, out of desperation, said, Clarissa, if you aren’t married by Spring to one of the good men around here, you will be on a train to Chicago to further your education and perhaps find a suitable husband there.

Claire stopped, causing a few of the exiting parishioners behind to bump into her. Ma grabbed her hand, pulling her toward their wagon. I mean it, Clarissa. Ma shook her finger in Claire’s face for good measure. Now, don’t go running to your pa. On this, we agree. We are all to travel to Chicago after branding this year and you will stay to find a decent husband or finish your schooling to become a teacher. Is that clear?

Yes. Perfectly.

Good. Ma nodded her head and waved to a few ladies coming down the stairs out of the church. She walked over to greet them, leaving Claire standing alone.

You look glum. Getting into trouble again, ah? a soft female voice teased from behind.

Claire reached around and gave her dear friend, Anne, a hug. Always, my friend.

What is it this time?

Husband hunting, Claire groaned.

Anne slapped her hand softly, her broad smile making her already large cheeks even bigger. Anne lead her away from the small group of ladies that had joined Ma and Emma. Now who does she have picked out?

She is asking me to choose.

Oh lovely. Anne clapped her hands and then frowned. I don’t see the problem.

Claire sighed. Anne would not see anything wrong. She was crazy about having a husband since her oldest sister had gotten married when they were just starting grammar school. Time hadn’t changed that after watching all three of her older sisters marry and move away. I have a few months to choose someone, Claire waved her hand towards the crowd, or I will be moving to Chicago. Ma had been threatening to take her to Grandmama’s and Papa’s for a few years, but Pa had always stepped in.

Anne. It was Lana Wilson, Anne’s mother. Come along. The train will be in soon.

Disappointed, Anne said, You will stop the next time you are in town. Please. You can tell me all about it.

As long as you don’t mind me in my chaps, I will come after I finish roundup.

Anne nodded and bustled away to join her mother. A wagon moved in amongst the others, Jameson, the Mercantile owner’s son, stepped down. Miss Anna, Mrs. Wilson. May I offer you a moment off your feet?

His offer was received by Lana, but to Claire’s surprise, her chatty friend offered only a blush. Oh bother. She had been talking to a lost cause. Claire watched them travel down the dusty street to her family’s eating house and hotel in the middle of town.

All too soon, Ma called Claire to join her group of ladies. Claire pulled down her dress as much as she dared to minimize the short hem before moving forward to join them. As she approached, she heard her mother say, Yes, well, I gave her a time limit. Surely, she can have her pick here.

Another middle-aged woman, Betty Hudson, joined in. Why I heard just last week, three mail-order brides stepped off the train and within a day all were here visiting the Reverend. She paused, looking Claire over. Well she could use some softening but I am sure there a few of our boys that would be interested her. Wouldn’t you say, Lucy?

Lucy, the doctor’s wife, covered her lips with her fingertips but remained silent. Claire sent a quick prayer that her boots would turn to quicksand and swallow her whole.

I can give you a list of finishing schools I’d recommend before she enters the Chicago society. Perhaps you could send her this spring?

Claire’s prayer became a plea. Ma came to her rescue. Thank you, Betty, I will keep that in mind. Clarissa, fetch the letters please and see they make it to the depot before the train leaves.

Claire untucked the towel that covered their lunch. Retrieving the batch of letters, she jumped down from her perch on the wagon, away from the busybodies. A train whistle blew across town, announcing the noon train. Rushing toward the depot, Claire fought the disembarking crowd. Out of breath, she handed the letters over to the ticket master, asking if he could add them to the mail bags.

The man grunted. Which way they be going, Miss?

Claire’s mouth formed a small ‘o’. She shuffled through the letters. Back east, Sir. The flower sealed envelope was gone. She had noticed it this morning when Ma had sent her back into the cabin for the stack of letters left on the table. It hadn’t even had an address posted on the outside. The ticket master ripped the letters from her hand and held out his palm. Claire dropped a few coins and wandered back the way she had come. The search for the missing letter turned up nothing, but a few broken bottles.

Ma and Emma were not at the church. Not finding the wagon at Wilson’s or the Mercantile, Claire walked the boardwalk on Main Street looking for their team. She found it parked next to one of the large saloons. Claire fiddled with her knife she had under her long sleeve and left the boardwalk. Just on the other side was Dawson’s Law Office. A mustached man opened the door before she could knock. A neatly kept desk sat empty across from the door. The assistant’s Claire supposed as this was Sunday and businesses, aside from the Saloons, were rarely open on the first day of the week.

So, you must be Miss Clarissa Burlow? The man’s smile tilted the edges of his grey-tinted handlebar mustache, making it smile too.

Yes. Have you seen—

We are in here. What took you so long? Ma came out of a room down the hall.

You didn’t tell me where you were.

Well, nevermind. Dawson, can we get this business over with?

Dawson led her into the same office her Ma had disappeared into. Papers were stuck in odd wooden shelves and books lined the wall behind the desk. Ma nudged her into a fine leather chair. Dawson set a pile of legal papers in front of her. Now my dear, these are —.

"We do not have time to explain it, Mr. Dawson. Just show her where to sign. We’ve wasted enough time already and John will expect us back. He is waiting on Claire to ride out for