Stands a Calder Man (Calder Saga 2)

“This is it, folks! Your journey’s end!” He sounded like a preacher announcing to his flock that they had reached the Promised Land. “These wagons are going to give you a close-up look at America’s new Eden! Now, I know you all are tired from your long ride and want to stretch your legs a bit. While you take a few minutes to get the stiffness out of your bones, I want you to look around. Take a gander out there at that grass.” He gestured to the expanse of plains beyond the railroad tracks leading into town. “It’s purty nigh belly-deep to a tall horse. You look at that grass—and picture wheat in your mind!”

Nate slid a sharp glance at Webb from the wagon seat. “What the hell is he talking about?” he muttered under his breath, but clearly didn’t expect an answer as he swung off the seat to the trampled and packed ground.

Webb took another look at the empty wagons lined up in front of the small train station. On both sides of the wagon beds, planks were laid, forming two benches to accommodate human freight. The new wood contrasted with the weathered-gray boards of the rest of the wagon and revealed how recently they had been converted to accommodate a passenger load.

As he dismounted and tied the gelding’s reins to the back of the buckboard, he sized up the milling group of people. There were a scant few who looked like farmers, the ones with permanently sun-reddened faces. The vast majority of the group had the paleness of the city about them, but their tired faces were alive with hope. Webb realized their expression was more positive than hope. The belief was shining in their eyes that they had now been led to the Promised Land.

My God, he thought with a mixture of amusement and anger. The poor fools don’t know what they’re gettin’ into.

Nate was already heading for the small building that housed the office of the station agent to check on the freight for the Triple C. A handful of the newly arrived passengers had wandered to the end of the train where the buckboard was parked, providing Webb with a closer study of them.

His dark gaze moved over the young girl at the vanguard of the little group, then came back to her. She stood poised on the edge of the limitless plains, facing the benchland of tall grass with its hidden coulees and flat buttes. Her chin was lifted to the wind blowing in from the land as if she were drinking in the air’s freshness, free from the city stench of smoke and congestion.

Wisps of dark auburn hair were whipped loose from a coiled knot at the back of her head while the sun’s direct rays highlighted the fiery sheen in her dark tresses. A limp blue hat dangled by a ribboned string held in her hand and the black shawl had fallen off her shoulders. The wind flattened the faded gingham material of her dress against her slim body, showing Webb the swelling curve of high, youthful breasts and the outline of slender hips and legs.

Vitality and excitement seemed to flow through every line of her. It was more than just her young female form that drew and held his eye. There was something else that pulled his interest and wouldn’t let it go. Without conscious direction, Webb let his course to the depot widen so he would pass closer to the girl.

Her motionless stance was broken as she turned to took over her shoulder and search the milling group of passengers for someone, her parents more than likely, since Webb doubted that a young girl would come out here alone. Evidently she spied them, because she started to glance back at the rolling grassland, sweeping aside strands of hair that the wind blew across her face. But when she did, she noticed his approach.

With bold curiosity, she stared at him. Her eyes seemed to take in every detail from the dusty crown of his cowboy hat to the heavy denim material of his Levi pants and the spurs riding low on his boots. Then her gaze swung upward to linger on the rough cut of his features. Montana born and raised, he unknowingly carried the print of the land on him, big and strong, with a certain har

shness in the uncompromising lines of his face. His flatly sinewed chest was broad and strong, throwing an impressive shadow on the ground.

Webb was indifferent to the impression he created. He was caught up in the blue of her eyes—as blue as the Montana sky overhead. Just like looking into the sky, he seemed able to see forever. The sensation gripped him, unnerving him a little.

His attention had been so obvious that his sense of propriety demanded a greeting. He touched a finger to his hat brim as he came within two feet of her, his easy stride slowing. “Good morning, miss.”

“Morning.” Her head dipped slightly in response, her eyes never leaving his. “Are you a cowboy?” The question rushed from her, followed by a smile that seemed to laugh at her own impetuousness.

“Yes.” His mouth quirked in a humorous line. It didn’t seem necessary to explain that he was a rancher’s son. By profession, he was a cowboy.

“I thought so.” Her smile widened at his affirmation. “You’re dressed like the cowboys that were in Mr. Cody’s parade.”

There was a second when he didn’t understand the reference to the man; then the confusion cleared. “You mean Buffalo Bill Cody and his Wild West Show,” he realized, amused by the falsely exaggerated impression it had created for thousands about the West. “Have you seen it?”

“No.” She shook her head, laughing softly as if such a possibility were out of her reach. It prompted Webb to notice again the dress she was wearing, guessing it was probably her best, yet it was faded except where the seams had been let out to compensate for her maturing figure. It was wrinkled from traveling, but clean. It was obvious that her family didn’t have the money to spend on such frivolities as a Wild West Show, and her next statement confirmed it. “We couldn’t afford the admission price, but they had a parade with Indians and everything.”

“Where was this?” Webb asked, curious to know where she was from—this innocent woman-child who couldn’t be more than seventeen.

“In New York. That’s where we live—used to live,” she corrected herself, excitement beaming in her face, thoroughly enchanting Webb with her eagerness for life.

“What are you doing here?” He struggled to break the crazy spell of her, forcing his gaze to the scattered clusters of the train’s former passengers.

“This is where we’re going to start a new life.” There was an absolute certainty in her voice that it would also be a better life. His glance slid back to study her profile as she looked expectantly at the surrounding plains, as if Utopia were just over the next rise. “We’re going to have our own land and grow acres and acres of wheat.”

“If that’s what you want to grow, you belong in Kansas. This land is only good for grass and cattle,” Webb stated grimly.

Her attention was fully on him once again, a determination he hadn’t seen before suddenly surfacing in her clean features. There was even a shade of defiance glittering in her eyes. “That isn’t what Mr. Wessel says.”

He tipped his head to one side. “And who is Mr. Wessel?”

“That’s him over there.” She indicated the man in the white suit. “He’s a locater. He’s going to show us the best sections of unclaimed land so we can choose which one we want to file on.”

It wasn’t difficult to imagine the promises of riches the man had made to these ignorant and inexperienced settlers.

“He’s going to find land for all these people on the train with you?” Webb guessed.

“Yes,” she stated with a challenging tilt of her chin. “All of us signed up with him because he’s the only one who knows where this land is located. No one else has seen it but him. We’re going to be the first.”