But then Harvey turned back, breaking eye contact with her and the moment was over. Isabelle looked around and blew out a loud breath, a small frown pulling her lips downward. She had her work cut out for her today.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Come on, Merle,” Mark said. “Who else could it be?”
Harvey leaned against a wall festooned with wanted posters − a rogue’s gallery of criminals of all sorts. Cattle rustlers, train robbers, bank robbers, murderers − Harvey never stopped being amazed by the sheer number of people who preferred living a life of crime, a life on the run, when you did not know from one day to the next if that was the day you would catch a bullet in the back, to one of hard work and service. A good life. A clean life.
“I know them dots line up nice and all but what actual proof do we have, Mark?” Sheriff Waits replied evenly.
Harvey had known Sheriff Merle Waits for more years than he could remember. He knew him to be a tough, no-nonsense kind of man, but one who was always fair. He was somebody who dealt in facts rather than in suppositions. Harvey knew Merle did not entertain wild rumor or speculation. And he had as much disdain for politics as Harvey himself did.
Harvey respected Merle a great deal. But he knew the old sheriff could often be intractable when he took a position and it would sometimes take an act of God himself to get him to change his thinking.
Sheriff Waits was a tall man, broad in the shoulders and chest. But time was catching up with him, and he had deeper lines in his face and was a little softer around the middle these days. He had a head full of white hair, and maybe he was a beat or two slower than he was back in his prime, but he was still a formidable man. He was a man who, despite having twenty years on him at least, Harvey did not want to tangle with.
“Who stands to gain the most if I go out of business, Merle?” Mark pushed. “Elmer Alford. That’s who.”
“That’s a nice theory,” Waits replied.
“I think it’s more than a theory.”
“Based on what?”
“How about based on what he did to Tommy Milligan a while back,” Mark argued. “Killed him in cold blood for no other reason than he’d heard Tommy had taken a shine to Ruby.”
“First of all, we couldn’t ever make a case that it was Elmer who done put Tommy down,” Waits responded. “He had half a dozen people who put him up in a whole different town the day Tommy was shot.”
“Yeah, his people. Real reliable character witnesses,” Mark spat.
“Reliable enough that Judge Heavers didn’t want to touch the case with a ten foot pole.”
“Yeah, and I couldn’t help but notice that Judge Heavers got himself a brand new horse and carriage after that.”
Waits sighed and shook his head. They had ventured well into the territory of rumor and innuendo. And by leveling veiled accusations of corruption against a sitting judge, Mark wasn’t doing himself any favors with the Sheriff. Waits sat back in his seat, the springs on it groaning in protest beneath his heavy frame. He tipped his hat back on his head and gave Mark a look that was bordering on hostile. Harvey knew the conversation was just about over in the good Sheriff’s eyes.
Mark looked over at him, seeking help. But Harvey had nothing to offer. He had warned Mark against making the accusation in the first place. Knew from long experience what Waits’s reaction was going to be. But he knew his friend’s emotions were running hot and he didn’t blame him for laying it all out there the way he had.
Harvey was sure that Waits believed Mark. He was not a stupid man and understood that Alford was the only one who stood to gain from Mark’s troubles. The problem, though, was that they had no evidence to back it up so Waits was not about to move on it.
“Based on the footprints y’all said you found and that tomahawk, I’d say it’s an Indian problem y’all got,” Waits said, even though he sounded dubious as he said it.
“That’s ridiculous,” Mark said. “Why on God’s green earth would the Indians wreck my distillery?”
Waits gave him a small shrug. “Maybe it’s retaliation for the shootout with them Sioux.”
Mark scoffed. “Seriously, Merle?”
Waits grinned as if even he didn’t believe the words that just fell out of his mouth. But in lieu of a better explanation, it was all he had to offer.
“Merle, at some point, logic and common sense has to take over,” he went on. “Two plus two equals four and all that.”
“Look, I ain’t sayin’ you’re wrong, Mark. In fact, I think there’s a very good chance you’re right,” Waits said. “But we have no evidence. And I ain’t gonna drag Elmer Alford in here for questioning without something to hang my hat on here. I like you a lot son, but I can’t go that far out on a limb for you.”
“Listen Merle,” Harvey said from where he stood against the wall. “We’d appreciate it if you’d just keep your ear to the ground. We just want to find out who tore up his distillery.”
“Fair enough. I’ll ask around a bit,” he replied. “See if we can’t find somethin’ out.”
“Appreciate it, Merle.”
Before Mark could argue further, Harvey tapped him on the shoulder and motioned to the door. The frustration on his face was more than clear and Harvey couldn’t quite bring himself to blame his friend. In his place, Harvey reckoned that he would be as upset as Mark. And for all he knew, he’d react just as his friend was doing.
But for now, he needed to be the voice of reason and keep Mark from getting himself into trouble. Not just for Mark’s own sake but also because he knew Isabelle would skin him alive if he let her brother get himself into trouble.
They stepped out of the sheriff’s office and into the bright sunlight of the afternoon. It was a pleasantly warm day and the streets were filled with wagons and men on horseback. The walks along the shops were crowded with people and they had to thread their way through the throng.
“Come on, I need to pick up a few things for the farm,” Harvey said.
“Yeah. There are a few things I need to grab, too.”
They stepped around a corner and found themselves face to face with none other than Elmer Alford himself. Harvey was a little startled by the older man’s appearance, and the old saying went through his head − speak the Devil’s name and the Devil shall appear.
Standing next to Elmer was his daughter Ruby, and he quickly looked over at Mark who was trying hard to control the emotion on his face. It was a battle he was losing as his love for Ruby was shining through − and although she refused to look at him, her feelings for Mark were equally clear.
Elmer stared hard at Mark, obviously picking up on the emotional energy that was flowing between them. He frowned, his lips pulling back into a snarl as he looked at Mark.
“Afternoon Elmer,” Harvey said, trying to pull the older man’s attention to him.
Alford grudgingly turned his eyes to Harvey but the snarl didn’t drop from his face.
“Afternoon, Harvey,” his voice was cold, hard.
Mark cleared his throat and tore his gaze away from Ruby. One of Alford’s goons − a hulking man with dark hair and a scar that ran down the right side of his face that Harvey recognized − stood to the right, glaring at them with barely controlled rage on his face. The air was charged with tension, the whispered promise of violence on the breeze.
“Teller, please escort my daughter to the dress shop,” Alford said, never taking his gaze off Mark.
“Right away, sir,” the large man said.
Ruby moved past them and Mark tipped his hat to her. “Afternoon, Miss Ruby,” he murmured.
Ruby said nothing in return as she walked off with Teller, disappearing around the corner, leaving Harvey and Mark standing with Alford, that whisper of violence starting to grow louder. The older man grinned at Mark but it was a smile completely devoid of warmth or humor. It was the cold rictus of a bone white skull and chilled Harvey to the core.
“How are things out at your distillery, Mr. Logan?”
he asked.
“I’m sure you know quite well how things are out at my place right now,” Mark growled.
“Why, I’m sure I do not. Hence, why I asked.”
Mark’s body tensed and his hands curled into fists at his sides. Harvey cleared his throat and put his hand on Mark’s shoulder, giving it a meaningful squeeze. Mark looked at him and Harvey could see the rage burning in his friend’s eyes. He gave his head a small shake then turned back to Alford.
“So, you don’t know anything about some vandalism that happened out our way last night?” Harvey asked.
“I most certainly do not,” Alford replied, sounding offended by the suggestion he did. “That sounds entirely disagreeable.”
“It is,” Mark hissed.
“Well, I assure you that I will ask around and see if we can’t root out these craven criminals,” he said. “We can’t have outrages like this perpetrated against the good, hard working people of this town.”
Mark opened his mouth to reply but Harvey shot him a glance and cut him off.
“Appreciate that, Elmer. We all have to stick together here, you know?”
The older man nodded. “Oh of course. Absolutely,” he said. “I am truly sorry for any inconvenience you have suffered, Mark. And I assure you we will not rest until these scoundrels are caught and brought to justice.”
Mark said nothing so Alford nodded and started to move around them.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he said.
“Afternoon, Elmer,” Harvey replied.
They both turned and watched as the older man disappeared around the corner, heading in the direction of the dress shop to catch up with Ruby. Mark sighed and turned to Harvey, his face etched with frustration and an impotent rage.
“Picking a fight with him doesn’t help you, Mark.”
He ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, I know. But I know he’s responsible for what happened.”
“You think he’s responsible.”
“Come on Harv, you aren’t really buying the Sheriff’s nonsense about it bein’ Indians are you?”
“I’m not sayin’ I do,” he replied. “I’m just sayin’ there might be another explanation. I mean, Elmer seemed pretty caught off guard by what we said. He seemed pretty earnest in his denial.”
“Yeah, he’s a talented actor,” Mark shot back.
“Mark, let’s not start a war without cause,” Harvey said. “Let’s get some facts first. That way, when we do go to war, we know we’re fighting the real enemy.”
Mark sighed heavily and stared at him for a long moment. But he gave Harvey a grudging nod. He clapped his friend on the shoulder, a small smile touching his lips.
“I’m just tryin’ to help you out here,” Harvey said.
“I know. I know you are.”
They turned in unison and walked on together. Mark had his hands in his pockets and was looking down at the ground, wrapped in a sullen silence.
“You know, at some point you’re gonna have to mend fences with Elmer,” Harvey said. “I mean, if you’re ever gonna get around to asking his permission to court Ruby.”
Mark grinned ruefully. “I’m pretty sure that ship has sailed.”
He shrugged. “You never know. Stranger things have happened. You’re a good man, Mark. Ruby could do a lot worse than you.”
“Her father probably thinks she could do a lot better,” he scoffed.
“Even hard feelings change. Elmer’s kinda set in his ways,” Harvey said. “But I want to believe that deep down, he wants what’s best for Ruby. Wants her to be happy. And it’s more than clear you two have some kind of a connection.”
Mark looked up and Harvey saw the pain in his friend’s eyes plain as day. The melancholy in his face hurt even him to see.
“I love her, Harv,” he said. “I love her with everything in me.”
Harvey nodded. “Then we need to do everything in our power to change Elmer’s mind about you.”
He scoffed. “Might as well ask the sun to not rise tomorrow.”
Harvey gave him a small smile. “Remember what they say − God works in mysterious ways,” he said. “Miracles can and do happen.”
“Well, at this point, I think the only miracle that’s going to happen is old man Alford passing on,” he replied. “Ruby would be free after that.”
Harvey’s laugh was low and wry. “Have you always been this dark?” he asked. “I heard it said women like a man who’s got a shinier outlook on life.”
That finally got Mark to laugh and when he did, it snapped the tension that filled the air between them. Mark finally seemed a bit more relaxed than he had since they found the distillery in shambles the night before. More like himself.
“And where did you hear that?” Mark asked.
“You know − around.”
“Uh huh,” he chuckled.
They walked on to run their errands together. Though Harvey was urging Mark to keep an open mind, he was still skeptical about Elmer’s denials. It was subtle, just a note or two, but something just struck him wrong.
But he did not want to share that with Mark − he was already walking around half-cocked as it was. Harvey, like Sheriff Waits, wanted the facts before doing anything. That way, the law was on their side when they did what they needed to do.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Isabelle sighed and mopped her brow with a rag she’d dipped in cold water. It wasn’t exceedingly warm but the physical labor was definitely heating her up. Thankfully, some of the farmhands had chipped in and had moved some of the heavier things, getting them back into their original positions.
She had focused on cleaning up the broken glass and splintered wood − trying to put everything back to rights. She still could not believe that old man Alford had his men destroy the distillery. Or at least try to.
She stood in the middle of the floor, surveying the distillery. It was more or less put back together but the damage was going to take some work to fix completely. The kettles and vats had taken a beating, that was for sure. But everything still looked operational.
She hoped that she had not lied to Mark when she had told him they would be able to get him up and running again. She wanted to believe they could. More than that, she needed him to believe it. She just had to hope it was true.
“H - Hello there,” came a voice. “It’s lovely to see you again, Isabelle.”
Her heart thundered in her chest and she spun around, eyes wide with fright. Isabelle clamped her hand over her chest, an awkward smile on her face when she saw Silas standing in the doorway of the distillery.
“You really scared me,” she said.
“I’m terribly sorry, Isabelle,” he replied. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly and gave him a small wave, a shaky smile on her face.
“No, it is fine,” she said. “I suppose I am just a bit jumpy today.”
Silas stepped through the doorway and looked around. He whistled low as he surveyed the damage.
“What happened in here?” he asked.
Isabelle sighed. “Somebody broke in here last night and tore it up,” she said. “Damaged and destroyed everything they could get their hands on.”
He whistled low again. “No wonder you’re a bit skittish today,” he said. “That sounds awful. I’m so sorry that happened to you folks.”
“Thank you.”
“Any idea who did it?”
Isabelle shook her head. “Nothing for sure,” she admitted. “We have some theories, but nothing to prove them.”
Silas frowned. “What is the world coming to these days when people aren’t even safe in their own homes?”
Isabelle gave him a rueful smile. She didn’t want to involve him in the politics of the situation. She was not about to reveal that her brother’s business rival was their leading suspect. As a leading figure in town, he likely knew Alford, and the last thing Isabelle wanted was to develop a reputation around town fo
r being a gossipmonger.
“Can I interest you in a glass of lemonade?” she asked, changing the subject.
His smile lit up his face and made him look ten years younger. “I would love a glass of lemonade.”
“Terrific. Follow me to the house, please.”
She led him out of the distillery and around to the house. She motioned to the chairs on the porch.
“Have a seat, I’ll bring it right out,” she said.
A Healing Love For The Broken Cowboy (Historical Western Romance) Page 16