Wicked Wyoming Nights Read Online Free PDF Page B

was unmistakable now. “So you made that mistake, did you?”
    “It’s not private property.”
    “It might as well be. There’s only a couple of pieces along the creek from here to North Fork not already in Stedman’s name.”
    “He’ll learn his mistake before long.”
    “What are you planning to do about it?”
    “I don’t know,” Ira acknowledged lamely. “I haven’t had time to think about it yet.”
    “You’ll be wasting your time if you keep trying to claim that land. Stedman won’t let you live on it, not even if they let you record it at the land office, and the sheriff won’t help you.”
    “Doesn’t anyone stand to up these ranchers?”
    “There’re other ways to hurt Stedman if you’re really interested,” Croley said deliberately.
    “I want to see his pride in the dust.”
    “I don’t know about that, but it’s possible to do him a serious hurt.”
    “How?”
    “There’re people about who don’t like him any more than you do, but it’s not safe to let it be known in some quarters. His crew is a rough lot.”
    “I’m not backing away from anybody,” Ira declared pugnaciously.
    “Save your boasting for the saloon,” Croley said, rising. “Some of the boys get right frisky when they get a little liquor under their belts.”
    “I’m not forgetting Stedman.”
    “Didn’t think you would. But the first thing you have to do is turn your niece into the kind of looker that’ll fill the house every night. Arnett’s got himself a dancer and Lavinia’s girls get their share of the trade, so that doesn’t leave much for us. You sure she won’t quit on us?”
    “No Smallwood backs down. She’ll look smart enough to pop the eyes right out of their heads. She can sing right pretty too, but she can’t dance.”
    “If she can pull in a dozen extra cowboys a night, there’ll be time enough to worry about that. Now I’ll say good night. I don’t trust Luke not to put his hand in the till when I’m not looking over his shoulder.
    The two men parted, each pleased with the agreement. Croley’s cold eyes glittered with avarice when he thought of what Eliza’s success could mean, but he didn’t like the frightened look in her eyes. Maybe she would get used to it, but he had never known a girl to be good with men who didn’t come by it naturally. Drinking cowboys didn’t come down easy on anybody. If a girl started scared, she stayed scared, but it was worth a try. With Eliza’s looks she’d attract attention just sitting in the corner. Besides, if things didn’t work out, he could always get rid of Smallwood. The man was a fool to let hate cloud his judgment, but maybe Croley could find a use for that too.
    Ira went to bed with even more sanguine hopes. He never doubted Eliza would do anything he wanted. She might be as shy as a hummingbird, but her mother had plenty of backbone and there was no reason to think once Eliza got used to the job she couldn’t give as good as she got. The costume did worry him, though. Eliza was tiresomely modest, and likely to balk at anything she considered improper. He hoped Lavinia could talk her into the right kind of clothes. He could force her out on stage, but it wouldn’t be any use if she was too hysterical to perform. And cringing and pulling at her dress wouldn’t help either.
    He’d worry about that tomorrow, but anything was better than trying to make a living from the soil. He had grown to hate the dry, powdery earth almost as much as he hated ranchers. Years of struggling against drought, sun, and grasshoppers to eke out a living had left him bitter and disillusioned. Eliza could grow a few vegetables and keep a cow and some chickens if she wanted, but soon there’d be enough money to buy anything he wanted without ever having to wonder whether the frost would kill his crop before it grew, or the rain ruin it before he could gather it.
    Involuntarily Ira’s mind reached back to the years when his wife and son were alive. In