Page 31 of The Forever Cowboy (Noble Ranch #1)

Sterling placed the stack of cash in front of Claude where he sat alone at the gaming table.

In the middle of taking a puff on a limp cigar, the tiny man paused and eyed the cash. With a head of thinning red hair, a narrow mustache, pasty white skin, and a slight frame, the saloon owner was not the man Sterling had expected.

The gaming room was also not what Sterling had expected. It was filled with morning sunshine, the several tables with chairs were immaculate, the floor was spotless, and the air held a fresh lemon scent.

Several of Claude’s men stood near the door, including the scar-faced one who had been in charge of the operation and apparently went by the name of Tiny.

“What’s this?” Claude’s voice came out surprisingly deep and coarse for a man of his small stature.

Tiny cleared his throat. “It’s the payment for Mr. Berkley’s debt. Or at least, most of it.”

“I’ll have the final three hundred to you in a few days.” Sterling pushed the cash closer to Claude. “Just as soon as I get back from selling some of my beef.”

Claude sized up Sterling, his hard eyes taking him in from his hat down to his boots. He was still wearing his Sunday best in preparation for the wedding that hadn’t taken place.

A wedding.

The whole ride into town with Claude’s men and all the while at the bank, Sterling hadn’t been able to contain the disappointment that was building inside him.

He’d been so close again to getting married to Violet.

He’d washed up, shaved, and changed into a suit in preparation. But would they need a wedding now?

The truth was, now that Sterling was paying off the debt, Claude would have no more reason to come after Violet and Hyacinth. They would be free to come and go as they pleased without any worry about being turned into dancehall girls.

“Did you count it?” Claude asked another fellow, one wearing a suit and glasses, his hair slicked back. He looked like he might be a bookkeeper rather than a henchman.

The fellow nodded. “It’s seventeen hundred.”

Claude flipped through the bills, tapped a finger on the top of the stack, then nodded at it.

The bookkeeper stepped up to the table, gathered the money, and slipped it into a leather satchel.

Claude sat back and peered at Sterling again. “I’ll expect the final payment in no more than a week.”

“I appreciate it.” The fellow seemed fair enough. He’d likely given Mr. Berkley plenty of chances to pay off his debt. Even so, the world of gambling was a dangerous one, and Sterling would be relieved when the whole ordeal was over.

Sterling turned to go. He had a lot of work ahead of him over the next few days if he hoped to pay Claude the final three hundred.

Claude’s voice stopped him. “I don’t know why you helped Mr. Berkley. But I hope you don’t regret it.”

Sterling glanced at the saloon owner, reclining in his chair at the table. “I don’t.”

“You should know, that man will be back. Gamblers like him can never stay away.”

Sterling supposed the gaming table had a strong pull on some people. But Mr. Berkley wouldn’t have a dime to spend in five years. If the pull of the gaming table wasn’t broken in five years, then Sterling didn’t know what could ever break it.

Claude took a puff on his cigar and eyed Sterling. “You won’t be able to bail him out forever.”

Sterling hoped Mr. Berkley had also learned a lesson through his brush with death.

Whatever the case, Sterling intended to use Beckett to toughen the man up and make an honest worker out of him.

The ranch, the work, the long days in the saddle would be hard on a fellow who was accustomed to being in an office.

But Sterling had faith Beckett would be able to reform Mr. Berkley.

“I’ll see you in a few days.” Sterling didn’t wait for Claude to say anything else and instead walked out of the saloon, got on his horse, and started back to the ranch.

He was in a hurry to return and urged his horse out of town at a gallop. All the while he rode, his mind kept pace. Would the reverend be there waiting? And if he was, what would they do about it?

As much as he wanted to push Violet forward with the wedding before she had a chance to change her mind and run away, a part of him knew he needed to consider abandoning the plans and sending the reverend home. He no longer had a valid reason for insisting on the marriage.

But strangely, his entire being was opposed to the prospect of cancelling the ceremony. The truth was, he wanted Violet any way he could have her, even if that meant they lived in a contrived marriage that was in name only.

Did that make him pathetic? Maybe. But he was desperate enough that he would do anything. If she was still willing, even though she no longer needed to go through with the wedding, that would be a good sign, wouldn’t it?

Even as he made excuses, they echoed with a familiar ring…because they were the same excuses he’d made before the first wedding, when he’d tried to tell himself it didn’t matter if she loved him less, if she wasn’t as invested in their marriage, if she didn’t want him as much.

He’d insisted his love could carry them both. But it hadn’t.

As he finally rode underneath the front gate of wrought iron with the Noble Ranch sign hanging overhead, he let himself take a full breath.

Some of the ranch hands were fixing fences.

A few others were working on a leaky spot on one of the barn roofs.

The cattle were fenced in where they should be.

And everything appeared to be back to normal.

The visit by Claude’s men could have ended much differently, with more destruction, injuries, and even loss of lives. Sterling had to count his blessings, especially that the women were safe and unharmed.

As he drew closer, he spotted a horse tied to a rail next to the barn—an old mare that didn’t belong to any of his ranch hands.

His heart gave an extra thud. The mare had to belong to the reverend.

Sterling didn’t waste time taking his horse to the barn and instead veered directly toward the house. At Sterling’s approach, Beckett stepped outside and headed down the steps.

“Well?” Beckett asked, his brow furrowed with worry.

“Claude agreed to the deal and gave me until the end of the week to get him the final payment.”

Beckett’s expression remained grim. “You’re gonna sell a dozen Durfords?”

Doing so would nearly deplete their stock of the prized cattle. Of course, they’d already had their breeding season earlier in the fall and had numerous cows that would deliver more Durfords in the spring…if all went well and no more died.

But still, selling the cattle wasn’t going to make the ranch more successful. It wasn’t a good business strategy. In fact, it was terrible. But he had to do it anyway.

Sterling dismounted and tossed the lead line over the porch railing. “Have the fellows separate out the beeves that are the thickest.”

“When we aiming to leave?”

“I’m going.” Sterling halted. “I need you here to keep an eye on things, make sure Claude doesn’t change his mind.”

Beckett twisted the piece of hay in his mouth. He didn’t protest, almost as if he’d expected the instructions.

Sterling straightened his tie.

Beckett narrowed his eyes. “Reckon we can send the preacher on home now that we don’t need him.”

Sterling didn’t want to argue with Beckett about his relationship with Violet right here and now. “I’ll see what Violet wants to do.”

If her kisses from the past day were any indication, then her passion and her desire for him had grown. He hadn’t imagined it. There was something different between them. At least, he wanted to believe they were different this time.

Sterling started up the steps.

Beckett followed more slowly, probably wanting to chastise him to be careful but holding himself back.

As Sterling entered, he listened for the sound of voices.

“In the kitchen.” Beckett nodded down the hallway.

Sterling hadn’t been sure what to expect when he entered the kitchen, but he was unprepared for Mr. Berkley to be weeping openly at the table.

Hyacinth was gently washing the abrasions on his neck, and Violet was sitting beside him, holding his hand.

Reverend Livingston was also seated beside him, speaking with him.

At Sterling’s appearance, Mr. Berkley lifted a handkerchief to his nose and blew noisily, trying to compose himself.

He’d taken quite a beating from Claude’s men, probably had bruises and cuts in places they couldn’t see, maybe even broken ribs.

But he was alive, and he would eventually heal.

Hopefully he could find healing both outwardly and inwardly.

Violet released her father’s hand, stood, and crossed to Sterling, her eyes bright with unshed tears. She started to reach for him as if she might throw herself against him in a hug, but she stopped short and clasped her hands together.

“Oh, Sterling,” she whispered with a tremulous smile. “I don’t know how I can thank you.”

She was just as beautiful in her green gown now as she’d been at dawn. The vibrant color made her eyes all the greener, like a mountain forest, and he wanted to wander in them all day. The color also made her pale skin look like silk so that he wished he could skim his hands over it.

Sterling could feel everyone staring at them, and a flush began to work its way around his collar.

He needed to have an important conversation with Violet about their future and what to do with the reverend now that he was at the house, but he didn’t want to have an audience. “Let’s talk in the hallway.”

They stepped out of the kitchen, and he closed the door for privacy. Beckett was nowhere to be seen, had probably gone out to the field to start separating the cattle to sell.

“You don’t have to thank me, Violet.” He fidgeted with his tie again.

“You’re amazing.” Her voice held reverence, and she clasped his hands and brought them down between them.