Pemberley Ranch - Jack Caldwell [20]
She soon found she had a knack for organization and a keener business mind than her husband. In all but name, she ran the ranch. At her urging, Lewis changed the name of the ranch to B&R, for “Burroughs and Rosings.” As for the other duties of marriage, she engaged in them enough to bear a daughter named Anne. Her doting father made Anne his and Cate’s heir, and her mother, her obligation done, saw no reason to undergo the process of childbirth again.
How Lewis felt about her decision would never be known, for he was dead before Anne’s fourth birthday. The official inquest said he was set upon by a band of Comanche while riding his land, but few in Rosings gave much credence to the commission. To this day, whispered speculation of what drove Lewis to self-murder would occasionally be overheard in town.
“Then it is settled,” declared Catherine Burroughs, widow of Lewis Burroughs and owner of B&R Ranch and Rosings Bank. “Your men, William, will drive B&R cattle along with your Pemberley herd to Abilene at the same price per head as last year.”
Darcy appraised his elder cousin critically. No sign of the attractive New York debutante remained. Instead, Catherine was a thin, weather-beaten, middle-aged woman, her silver hair swept back and done up on the top of her head. Her dress was a rich silk burgundy, but her face was as hard and lined as a fence post. She sat on the divan like a princess. Anne sat next to her, on the edge, seemingly ready to dash out of the room at a moment’s notice.
“Yes,” Darcy agreed, “as long as your herd’s assembled and ready on the appointed date. Fitzwilliam here leaves no later than the last week in April, right behind the trail breakers.”
The matron turned to Fitzwilliam, standing hat in hand next to Darcy’s chair. “So early… why so early? You never left before the middle of May before.”
“Miz Burroughs, we ain’t the only outfit that’s tryin’ to sell our beef. Will and I figure that the early bird gets the worm, as they say, and we’ll steal a march on the others by gettin’ to Abilene first. Get a better price, I’m thinkin’.”
“The weather will be wet.” Mrs. Burroughs’s expression showed she didn’t enjoy discussing business with employees— they were to be told what to do, not question their betters.
“That’s true, ma’am, but the grass’ll be green, an’ there’ll be plenty o’ water. As long as the herd don’t get spooked by lightnin’, we ought to be fine.”
“Fitz knows what he’s doing, Cate,” Darcy assured her.
“Very well,” Mrs. Burroughs ended the discussion.
Darcy had another subject to bring up, but it involved family. “Fitz, would you excuse us?” The Pemberley foreman picked up his hat and was escorted out of the room by Bartholomew, the Burroughs’ longtime butler.
Once the door closed, Darcy turned to the two ladies seated before him. “Cate, I want to talk to you about George Whitehead.”
“Again? That subject is closed, William.”
“You don’t know what kind of man he is.”
She waved her hand in dismissal. “I know you two had some unpleasantness during the war, but that is all in the past. He has proven to be a worthwhile advisor, and I have the money in the bank to prove it. He has connections with the government in Austin, and that is worth its weight in gold in times like these.”
“He talked you into selling that bottomland to those settlers. You know what’s going to happen to them if we get a flood.”
“It’s been years since we had any problems. Besides, that land was useless—it was doing me no good. Why shouldn’t I make a profit?”
“Money—is that all you care about?”
“What else is there? Where did this foolishness come from?”
Darcy glanced at Anne, who had been sitting quietly throughout the discussions. They both knew his arguments were useless with her mother. Plain, sweet Anne had, unfortunately, inherited most of her looks from her father. Sick for much of her