Cattleman's Courtship

She shook her head in disgust and went back to sorting and attaching documents into the thick file until at last, there were only two sheets of paper left. The two letters were from a law firm in Helena, and both appeared to be an annual report on the status of a trust fund of some sort. Although the name Bowdrie was scrawled across the top of the letters in Hank’s bold, almost illegible hand, the file number below the name wasn’t the same as the thick file spread open on the floor before Victoria.

She paper-clipped the two letters together and added them to the stack of misfiled documents on top of the filing cabinet. Then she slipped the thick Bowdrie file back into its place in the file drawer. A quick glance at her watch told her she was going to be late for dinner with Aunt Sheila and Uncle John.

She quickly gathered her purse and let herself out of the office, carefully locking the door behind her, the puzzling letters forgotten on top of the cabinet.

Struggling to deal with the culture shock of her sudden shift from city to small town life, Victoria found herself brewing tea at two on Sunday morning, unable to sleep. She wasn’t sure if her sleeplessness was due to the lack of traffic noise outside or the hazy dream she’d had about dancing with Quinn.

Whatever the cause, Victoria stifled a yawn and struggled to concentrate on the minister’s sermon much later that morning.

Oh, what I’d give for a double shot latte, she thought longingly. Flavored coffee brewed strong enough to jolt her awake was only one of a long list of things she missed about Seattle. Six months, she lectured silently. I will make the best of living away from city comforts for the next six months.

Later, as she followed her aunt down the aisle and stepped out into the sunshine, she reminded herself that there were many things she enjoyed about living in this small Montana town. The pleasure of breathing air untainted by city exhaust, the friendliness of neighbors and the opportunity to spend time with her aunt, uncle and cousin were only a few of the reasons she liked Colson. I need to focus on what I enjoy about living in Montana, she thought. And not on what I miss about Seattle.

“Hello, Sheila.”

A plump, middle-aged woman, flowers bobbing atop her white straw hat, halted Sheila Denning. Victoria’s aunt paused on the wide sidewalk, Lonna and Victoria beside her.

“Good morning, Laura, everyone.” Sheila smiled pleasantly at the two women standing in a semicircle with Laura Kennedy. “I don’t think you’ve met my niece, Victoria. She’s recently moved to Colson. Victoria, I’d like you to meet Laura Kennedy, Becky Sprackett and Eileen Bowdrie.”

“Good morning, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Victoria murmured in response to the chorus of greetings. The woman that Sheila had introduced as Eileen Bowdrie piqued her interest. The impeccably dressed older woman had elegant features, but her patrician beauty was marred by cold blue eyes and a haughty air.

“I’ve met your relative—Quinn Bowdrie.”

Eileen Bowdrie’s eyes grew icier and she stiffened.

“I am most certainly not related to Quinn Bowdrie. Nor to his brother, Cully,” she said emphatically. “If you were more familiar with our town, you’d know that those two are absolutely no blood relation of mine. I’m their father’s widow, but I am certainly not their mother. Unfortunately for the community, they inherited all of their father’s weaknesses and none of his strengths. They ought to be locked up somewhere, there isn’t a decent woman in the county that’s safe with either of them.”

Despite Lonna and Nikki’s description of Eileen, Victoria was still stunned by the woman’s bitter attack. Her shock quickly gave way to anger, however, as bitterness continued to pour out of the woman. Stubborn and impossible though Quinn had been, Victoria thought, he’d gone out of his way to step in when Sam Beckman had proven difficult. Even when he’d discovered that she was an attorney he’d been angry but polite.

At last the woman paused to catch a breath.

“An interesting viewpoint,” Victoria interjected smoothly. “However, my experience with Quinn was quite different. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Quinn Bowdrie, I would have had to fight off the unwanted attentions of a local rancher at the Crossroads several weeks ago. I’m very grateful that Quinn was there and stepped in, and I found him to be a perfect gentleman.”

Eileen’s face flushed with anger, and her thin body stiffened. She seemed to expand and grow taller with affront.

“Well! I refuse to stand here and waste my time being corrected by a young woman who clearly has no understanding of this situation.” Eileen glared at Victoria before turning a fulminating stare on her aunt. “Sheila, I suggest you apprise your niece of the facts.” She switched her furious gaze back to Victoria. “And after you are aware of the true situation, I shall expect a full apology from you, young woman.”

Clutching her purse between a rigid elbow and the cream silk suit covering her thin waist, Eileen Bowdrie turned on her heel and stalked away down the sidewalk, nearly vibrating with self-righteous fury.

“Well, I…” Laura Kennedy managed a feeble smile. “I’ll see you ladies at the Garden Club meeting on Tuesday.” She hurried off after Eileen, the flowers on her hat dipping and swaying in time with her quick strides.

“Well,” Sheila declared in a puff of sound, before she eyed her niece. “You stirred up a hornet’s nest, Victoria.”

Victoria was so angry she could feel her cheeks radiating heat. “That is the most obnoxious woman I have ever had the misfortune to meet.” She paused to draw a deep breath, exhaling slowly in an attempt to rid herself of the anger that coursed through her veins and beat at her temples. “Outside of opponents in divorce court, I’ve never heard such vicious comments.”

“Hah!” Becky Sprackett snorted inelegantly. “That wasn’t as bad as some things I’ve heard her say.” One capable, work-roughened hand patted Victoria’s shoulder approvingly and she smiled, her faded blue eyes twinkling. “Good for you, girl. I’m glad you stood up to her. I think it’s about time somebody reminded her that not all the folks in the county agree with her about the Bowdrie brothers.”

“Becky’s right,” Sheila commented. “Eileen just isn’t rational about those boys and never has been. To listen to her talk about them, a person would think that they had horns, tails and carried pitchforks.”

“That’s a perfect description of Eileen Bowdrie’s ridiculous opinion,” Becky declared with a sniff of disgust. “I’ve known those boys ever since they came to live next door at their daddy’s ranch,” she said firmly. “And they’ve never done anything worse than snitch a warm pie off my windowsill. Of course, they were a mite wild growing up. But their father, bless his soul, would be proud of the men they’ve become, despite what Eileen says.”

“I’ve never met Cully, but I’ve met Quinn and saw no evidence of horns or a pitchfork,” Victoria said.

“Hmm, that’s right. You told Eileen that you met Quinn,” Sheila murmured, eyeing her niece with interest. “And where was that, exactly?”

“At the Crossroads Bar and Grill—the night that Lonna and I went to hear a band she loves. And then I saw him again last Friday when he came into the pharmacy.”

“He was in the pharmacy?”

“Yes. He dropped off a prescription—I believe it was yours, Becky.”

Victoria noted the raised eyebrows and speculative glances between her aunt and Becky, but before she could question them, the minister joined their group and her query was forgotten in the ensuing conversation.

“Hey, Quinn!”

Cully’s shout, followed by the slamming of the front door, shattered the silence of the ranch house.

“I’m in the kitchen,” Quinn yelled. He glanced over his shoulder and watched his brother enter the room before he turned back to the sink. Dirty water ran from his soapy hands and swirled down the drain. Mud freckled his face, dotted his hair, splattered his shirt and coated his jeans almost to the knee. Only his feet, covered in white socks, were free of the half-wet, half-dry brown mud.

“What happened to you?” Cully asked, halting in midstride to stare.

“I got the truck stuck in that bog out in Pilgrim’s Meadow.”

“No kidding. What does the truck look like?”

Quinn glanced up and caught the amused grin that lit Cully’s green eyes and tilted his mouth.

“Worse than I do.” He said drily. He bent and ducked his head under the spigot, scrubbing his face and hair vigorously under the running water before he twisted the faucet closed. Eyes shut, he fumbled for the towel on the countertop and dried water from his face and hands before he turned back to Cully, his head buried in damp terry cloth as he rubbed his hair. “So,” he mumbled, “where have you been?”

“Over at Becky’s, helping fix her corral gate.”

Quinn frowned and tossed the wet towel back onto the countertop. Cully’s voice was filled with amusement. Quinn eyed him. His brother leaned against the counter, boot-covered feet crossed at the ankles, his arms folded across his chest. He was the very picture of innocence.

Quinn was instantly suspicious.

“At Becky’s, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. What happened at Becky’s that’s so funny?”

“Becky went to church this morning.”

“What’s funny about that? Becky goes to church every Sunday morning.”

“Yeah, but this Sunday morning the druggist’s niece was there, too.”

Quinn stiffened. “So?”

“So was our wicked stepmother.”

Quinn’s hands curled into fists. “What did she do to Victoria?”

“It’s not what Eileen did to Victoria, it’s what Victoria did to the wicked stepmother.”

“All right, get to the point—what happened?”

“Victoria must not have known that Eileen hates our guts because she asked her if she was related to us. Becky says Eileen practically exploded and the longer she ranted about us, the angrier the niece got. According to Becky, the lady interrupted her in midspeech and verbally ripped her to shreds.” Cully chuckled. “Becky told me that Eileen swelled up like a balloon, she was so mad. Then she told the niece that she was owed an apology and stomped off.”

“Hell.” Quinn uncurled his fists and thrust his fingers through his hair. “What did she do that for?”

“Damned if I know,” Cully said bluntly. “But it’s nice to know that somebody besides Becky has the guts to tell Eileen to shut up every now and then.” He eyed Quinn with curiosity. “Why did she stick up for us, anyway? Becky says the niece knows you—when did you meet her?”

“A couple of weeks ago at the Crossroads,” Quinn replied, distracted by the mental image of what Victoria might have looked like angry. The smooth skin of her cheeks would have been flushed, her blue eyes snapping, her small body defensive.

“At the Crossroads?” Cully’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Is this the blonde Nikki told me you took away from Sam Beckman?”

“I didn’t take her away from Beckman,” Quinn said impatiently. “He was giving her a hard time and I cut in to dance with her. That’s all. End of story.”

“Yeah. Right.” Cully’s tone was patently disbelieving. “If that’s the end of the story, then how come she jumped down Eileen’s throat when she started complaining about you?”

“Who knows?” Quinn shrugged. “She’s an attorney. Maybe it’s just a natural reaction for her to argue.”

“Hmm. Possibly, but I doubt it—sounds to me like the lady likes you, Quinn.”

“I doubt it, but if she does, she’d be smarter to keep it to herself,” Quinn said grimly. “If the gossips in Colson decide she’s interested in a Bowdrie, her reputation will be toast.”

Cully’s face tightened, his eyes narrowing.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice hard.

The kitchen was silent for several moments while the brothers were immersed in their own thoughts before Cully glanced at Quinn in slow surprise.

“She’s an attorney? Did you say the Dennings’s niece is an attorney?”

“Yeah.”

Cully whistled, a soft, almost silent pursing of his lips.

“Well, I’ll be damned. You not only spoke to her, you actually went out of your way to take her away from Beckman?”

“I told you—I didn’t take her away from Beckman.”

“But she’s an attorney. You hate women attorneys. We both do.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know she was an attorney when I danced with her, okay?”

“Okay.” Cully lifted his hands in surrender. He started toward the doorway to the back porch. “Must be some woman.”

And with that parting shot, he walked across the small utility room and disappeared outside, the screen door slapping shut behind him.

Quinn glowered at the closed door. Cully’s departing figure was clearly visible through the mesh screen and his cheerful whistling was plainly audible.

There was no question that Cully thought he’d discovered a chink in Quinn’s armor and would continue to tease him about Victoria.

“Damn,” Quinn swore as he threw his mud-splattered shirt inside the washer before stripping off his jeans and heading upstairs for a shower.

Moments later, he stood under the pounding stream, sluicing the remaining mud from his hair. He braced his hands against the tiled wall and let the hot spray knead his sore back muscles.

Why was she defending him? He’d given her no cause.

The question nagged Quinn the rest of the day and into the evening. He wanted to ask her why she’d championed him in front of her aunt and her friends but he knew he shouldn’t. He should stay away from her.

Victoria was curled up in bed, reading, when someone knocked on her apartment door.

She glanced at the alarm clock on her nightstand. “Ten o’clock?” She couldn’t think of anyone who might be visiting her except Lonna, and she’d already spoken with her cousin earlier in the evening. Nevertheless, she grabbed her comfortable cotton wrap robe from the foot of her bed and headed into the living room. The old-fashioned oak door was heavy and solid, with no peephole marking its thick panels. She paused, her hand hesitating on the doorknob, made cautious by her years in Seattle and the lateness of the hour.

“Who’s there?”

“Quinn Bowdrie.”

Startled, Victoria stared at the oak panel for a moment before she twisted the dead bolt free and pulled open the door.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

Quinn stared at her silently. Nonplussed, Victoria could only stare back. What was he doing here?

He glanced over her shoulder at the lamplit room beyond. He tilted his head to look down at her and the brim of his Stetson threw a faint shadow over the top half of his face.

“Can I come in?”

“Yes, of course.”

She stepped back hastily and waved him into the room. He moved past her and she closed the door, leaning against it for a moment while she stared at the blue chambray covering his broad back and shoulders. Her gaze swept down the long length of his legs encased in faded jeans and vaguely noted the black cowboy boots he wore while she struggled to get her bearings. What was he doing here? After he’d flatly rejected the possibility of visiting her at the pharmacy, he was the last person she’d expected to see at her door.

Quinn glanced around the room before he turned to face her.

“I’m surprised to see you.” She pushed away from the door, tugged the robe sash tighter and eyed him. “Didn’t you tell me that visiting me wasn’t a good idea?”

“I did.” He nodded briefly. “And I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Victoria’s eyes narrowed. “Then what are you doing here?”

“I heard you had a run-in with my stepmother this morning. I wanted to thank you for defending me…”

Victoria’s militant stance softened, a half smile curving her lips.

“…and tell you not to do it again.”

The smile disappeared and she frowned.

“That’s a left-handed thank-you if I ever heard one, and I’ve heard some pretty grudging thankyous.”

Quinn yanked his Stetson off and raked the fingers of his right hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I appreciate your standing up to my stepmother, but you’re wasting your time. Nothing you or anyone else can say will change what she thinks about my brother and me. All you’re going to do is stir up the gossips and start them speculating about your own character. Before you know it, the stories making the rounds will be wilder than you can imagine. I don’t want your good name ruined because of me—this isn’t Seattle. Small town gossip can be brutal.”

“Why do you care? I thought you believed that the fact that I’m an attorney automatically gave me a bad name.”

“That’s your profession—and your choice. This is personal and involves me.”

“It was just one small conversation with a few women.” Victoria waved her hand impatiently. “You’re overreacting, Quinn. And even if you’re right about this, I refuse to worry about small-minded people.”

“You’d better worry,” Quinn said grimly. “They can make your life hell.”

Victoria shrugged. “I won’t be here forever—six months isn’t that long. And when I go back to Seattle, they’ll forget about me and find someone else to talk about. In the meantime, I won’t listen to your stepmother spreading wild lies about you.”

“What makes you so sure that she’s lying?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Victoria said impatiently. “Don’t tell me that you expect me to believe that nonsense she told me.”

Her unquestioning belief in him was astounding. With the exception of Becky, Quinn couldn’t remember anyone else ever telling him that Eileen was dead wrong about him. A swift stab of emotion pierced his chest and he absentmindedly rubbed his fingers over his heart in an attempt to erase the pain.

Victoria’s gaze flicked to his fingers and then back to search his face.

“What’s wrong?”

Concern edged her tone.

Quinn quickly dropped his hand away from his shirt.

“Nothing.” He had to get out of her apartment and away from her. The quiet room, lit only by the soft glow of a lamp, was too intimate. He’d tried, and failed, to ignore the robe that clung to her curves and left her legs bare from just above her knees to her toes. Now he tamped down the urge to smooth his palm over her normally sleek blond hair that was tousled as if she’d just gotten out of bed. But the spark of worry and caring in her eyes was an enticement he could barely resist.

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