The dust cloud was visible long before the column of horses appeared on the
horizon. Shimmering heat waves obscured the riders so it was hard to
estimate their number but their red coats clearly identified them.
The British Army was paying a social call on Marston Ranch.
"Always single file, always with those damn uniforms buttoned up to their chins." Toby balanced his chair on its back legs and watched the procession. "It's a wonder their heads don't explode."
Sam smiled at the picture this conjured up. "Are you implying disrespect for our soldiers, sir?"
"Not me. Mr. Marston wouldn't like that." The ranch foreman spat over the railing into the bushes. "The army's his biggest customer."
Marston appeared on the porch through the double doors that led from his study. A man ran across the yard to open the gate. The three riders pulled up in front of the main house and dismounted.
"Really?" Sam looked thoughtful. "That must be a very lucrative contract."
"It is for a fact." Ned looked up from the halter he was working on. "The Boss got rich feedin' the army."
They fell silent as they watched Marston greet the visitors with obvious good-fellowship. Laughter floated through the air as the group disappeared into the house.
"You'll be busy pretty soon, Miss Flanagan. There'll be a special dinner up at the house tonight." Toby lowered his chair to the ground and rose to his feet. "Best be gettin' back to work myself."
Sam continued to stare at the house as the men drifted away to their duties around the ranch. Her employer was quite an enigma. She saw him several times a day, sometimes for lengthy periods, but she was no closer to understanding the man who'd so abruptly changed his mind about hiring her six weeks ago.
She picked up a potato and began peeling it. He was certainly a reserved man, never revealing his thoughts with his expressions and rarely with his words. Such a man could make a fortune playing poker at Belle's Palace.
"Oh!" She gasped, then sucked at her pricked thumb. That's what you get for not concentrating, she thought. Keep your mind on your business, girl. Don't think about your problems.
For the next half-hour she devoted herself to the business of potatoes. The peels piled up on the ground beside her chair as the afternoon sun advanced across the sky.
"Miz Flanagan?" O'Flynn poked his head around the corner of the building. "The Boss wants to see you."
*************************************************
The main house seemed to be an alien place. The habitual quiet atmosphere had been occupied by the noise of male laughter and heavy footfalls.
Sam waited inside the main hallway, uncertain about her destination. Usually she would have proceeded to the study but Marston could be meeting his guests there if this were a business visit.
A door opened down the hall and the rancher appeared. "Ah, there you are. There'll be four of us dining tonight, Miss Flanagan." He walked down the hall and hesitated. "Let's talk in here." Pulling open the door to the dining room, he stepped aside for her to enter.
Footsteps thudded down the hall behind them. "Elliott! I say, do you have -" The soldier stopped in his tracks. "Oh, beg pardon. Didn't realize you were busy."
"Not at all. Miss Flanagan, may I present Major Rodney Ashley-Pitt, of Her Majesty's Western Australia regiment. Major, this is Sam Flanagan who is currently employed on my ranch."
The major's brows rose. "Sam Flanagan?" He repeated. "That is a name not unknown to me." His gaze went down her body with insulting slowness, then returned to her face. She flushed under the examination.
Marston frowned. "I believe you are referring to Miss Flanagan's father. He has a reputation in certain circles for his expertise in security matters."
"Of course. Your father. How remiss of me. Honored to meet you, Miss Flanagan." He stepped back and started to retreat down the hall.
"Would you excuse me a minute?" Marston held the door open again. "I won't be long." Sam nodded and escaped into the dining room. He strode off after the major.
The soldier looked up with a smile as his host entered the study. "Interesting taste you have, Elliott." He winked.
"Major, I do not think Miss Flanagan appreciated your attitude. I know I don't." It was an understatement. The other's suggestive stare had fired his temper like nothing had in months. "My employees are not to be insulted."
The major's smile hardened into a leer. "Come now, old man, we're both adults here. Whatever your game is, I won't let it out."
Marston took a deep breath. "I'm not playing any game with Miss Flanagan."
The soldier looked at him long and hard through eyes that were not intelligent but did contain a certain low cunning. "Then she's playing one with you." He tossed back his whiskey and walked to the desk for another. "Sam Flanagan - the real one, the gunman - did some work for us two years ago. Not my regiment, you understand, but I had occasion to meet him several times. Got to know him quite well, actually."
He paused to add the minutest amount of water to his drink. Raising the glass, he peered through the amber liquid, then nodded in satisfaction. He turned back to his host.
"Sam Flanagan doesn't have a daughter."
The British Army was paying a social call on Marston Ranch.
"Always single file, always with those damn uniforms buttoned up to their chins." Toby balanced his chair on its back legs and watched the procession. "It's a wonder their heads don't explode."
Sam smiled at the picture this conjured up. "Are you implying disrespect for our soldiers, sir?"
"Not me. Mr. Marston wouldn't like that." The ranch foreman spat over the railing into the bushes. "The army's his biggest customer."
Marston appeared on the porch through the double doors that led from his study. A man ran across the yard to open the gate. The three riders pulled up in front of the main house and dismounted.
"Really?" Sam looked thoughtful. "That must be a very lucrative contract."
"It is for a fact." Ned looked up from the halter he was working on. "The Boss got rich feedin' the army."
They fell silent as they watched Marston greet the visitors with obvious good-fellowship. Laughter floated through the air as the group disappeared into the house.
"You'll be busy pretty soon, Miss Flanagan. There'll be a special dinner up at the house tonight." Toby lowered his chair to the ground and rose to his feet. "Best be gettin' back to work myself."
Sam continued to stare at the house as the men drifted away to their duties around the ranch. Her employer was quite an enigma. She saw him several times a day, sometimes for lengthy periods, but she was no closer to understanding the man who'd so abruptly changed his mind about hiring her six weeks ago.
She picked up a potato and began peeling it. He was certainly a reserved man, never revealing his thoughts with his expressions and rarely with his words. Such a man could make a fortune playing poker at Belle's Palace.
"Oh!" She gasped, then sucked at her pricked thumb. That's what you get for not concentrating, she thought. Keep your mind on your business, girl. Don't think about your problems.
For the next half-hour she devoted herself to the business of potatoes. The peels piled up on the ground beside her chair as the afternoon sun advanced across the sky.
"Miz Flanagan?" O'Flynn poked his head around the corner of the building. "The Boss wants to see you."
*************************************************
The main house seemed to be an alien place. The habitual quiet atmosphere had been occupied by the noise of male laughter and heavy footfalls.
Sam waited inside the main hallway, uncertain about her destination. Usually she would have proceeded to the study but Marston could be meeting his guests there if this were a business visit.
A door opened down the hall and the rancher appeared. "Ah, there you are. There'll be four of us dining tonight, Miss Flanagan." He walked down the hall and hesitated. "Let's talk in here." Pulling open the door to the dining room, he stepped aside for her to enter.
Footsteps thudded down the hall behind them. "Elliott! I say, do you have -" The soldier stopped in his tracks. "Oh, beg pardon. Didn't realize you were busy."
"Not at all. Miss Flanagan, may I present Major Rodney Ashley-Pitt, of Her Majesty's Western Australia regiment. Major, this is Sam Flanagan who is currently employed on my ranch."
The major's brows rose. "Sam Flanagan?" He repeated. "That is a name not unknown to me." His gaze went down her body with insulting slowness, then returned to her face. She flushed under the examination.
Marston frowned. "I believe you are referring to Miss Flanagan's father. He has a reputation in certain circles for his expertise in security matters."
"Of course. Your father. How remiss of me. Honored to meet you, Miss Flanagan." He stepped back and started to retreat down the hall.
"Would you excuse me a minute?" Marston held the door open again. "I won't be long." Sam nodded and escaped into the dining room. He strode off after the major.
The soldier looked up with a smile as his host entered the study. "Interesting taste you have, Elliott." He winked.
"Major, I do not think Miss Flanagan appreciated your attitude. I know I don't." It was an understatement. The other's suggestive stare had fired his temper like nothing had in months. "My employees are not to be insulted."
The major's smile hardened into a leer. "Come now, old man, we're both adults here. Whatever your game is, I won't let it out."
Marston took a deep breath. "I'm not playing any game with Miss Flanagan."
The soldier looked at him long and hard through eyes that were not intelligent but did contain a certain low cunning. "Then she's playing one with you." He tossed back his whiskey and walked to the desk for another. "Sam Flanagan - the real one, the gunman - did some work for us two years ago. Not my regiment, you understand, but I had occasion to meet him several times. Got to know him quite well, actually."
He paused to add the minutest amount of water to his drink. Raising the glass, he peered through the amber liquid, then nodded in satisfaction. He turned back to his host.
"Sam Flanagan doesn't have a daughter."