Love on the Range

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Love on the Range Page 10

by Mary Connealy


  “I have a tea that helps me sleep. The chamomile in the white tin canister. Brew me a cup, and bring it to my room.” He said neither please nor thank you, and he didn’t apologize again. Instead, he turned and headed straight back upstairs.

  She frowned as he headed away, taking the light with him. She was supposed to brew tea for him? As if he were incapable of that? And bring it to his room?

  Molly thought of what Rachel had told her to expect.

  “He’ll ask you to do things he could so obviously do for himself that it’s strange he doesn’t. Things like asking you to pour his coffee when the coffeepot is sitting right in front of him. And he’ll expect you to do it quickly. He comments on it if you’re not grateful and demure. Mostly, he wants you to do as you’re told, and if you don’t, he expresses displeasure, first mildly, then with increasing severity. He is frightening.”

  “You’re not going up there.” Wyatt had somehow gotten up and come to her side. He spoke in a whisper, but that didn’t disguise his anger. “You’re not going into his room in the middle of the night in your nightclothes.”

  “No, I am most certainly not.” She considered what it might mean to defy Mr. Hawkins. “I’ll take it and set it on the table that’s just outside his door. I’ll knock, tell him it’s out there, and leave.”

  She said it all, outraged at Hawkins’s nerve, as she stood there beside Wyatt in her nightclothes in her bedroom.

  “You go on. I’ll tell you what—”

  “I’m not leaving until you’re safely back here. And while you brew tea, I’m going to go back and search that safe.”

  He slipped past her and was gone. She couldn’t exactly yell after him.

  “Molly, I asked you to bring the tea to my room last night.” Mr. Hawkins had a chiding way about him.

  Shallow charm and the chiding always sounded like he was so sad, so disappointed.

  “He wants you to do as you’re told, and if you don’t, he expresses displeasure, first mildly . . .”

  “As I did, Mr. Hawkins.” Molly had gone up, set the tray on the table, knocked, and left.

  “But you left it outside my room. I find it helps my sleep much more if I’m settled in bed, and the tea is poured and handed to me. I expect my housekeeper to provide such a small service for me.”

  “Mr. Hawkins, I was glad to make the tea, but it would be the height of impropriety for me to enter your room at night.” Molly did her best to sound like a scandalized maiden lady, when she wanted to whack him over the head with the teapot. “If going into your room while it is occupied by you is a requirement of this job, then I will have to leave your employ immediately.”

  He was eating a cinnamon roll she’d just pulled hot out of the oven. And she’d hit him with her special custard with the crispy caramel topping last night. She had cherry cobbler baking for the noon meal, and the smell filled the kitchen, along with the yeasty, cinnamon scent of his roll.

  He might start looking for a new housekeeper, because she was quite sure his intentions weren’t honorable, and if she had no interest in him, then he needed a housekeeper who was, but he’d never fire her until her replacement was at hand.

  Molly might be here to investigate, but the house was a shambles, just as Wyatt said the ranch was. She’d been working hard to clean it, all the while wondering why. To pass the time and because she had a longing for order. That was the best she could figure. Wyatt said it offended him to see such a poorly run ranch, and the animals were being neglected, which he couldn’t abide, so he was trying to run it right, but he, too, wasn’t sure why he cared—beyond the livestock. They’d be gone as soon as they got into Hawkins’s second safe.

  The first safe had held nothing much of interest, except stacks of account books. Wyatt had taken them to her room and gone over them for most of the night. He started with the most recent ones before it occurred to him that information about how Hawkins got the money from Win’s mother and how he spent it would be near the beginning.

  Molly saw days, even weeks, of work to go through them all.

  Wyatt said Hawkins had started with a fortune, but after twenty years of spending it down hard with a loss each year, the large balances in the accounts were dwindling.

  It also looked as if Ralston had stolen a nice chunk of money, but Wyatt hadn’t gotten to the bottom of all that yet. With serious misgivings, he ended up putting the account ledgers back in the safe, afraid their absence might be noticed. He wanted to come back tonight, but Molly insisted he needed a night’s sleep between his investigative forays.

  As these thoughts raced through her mind, she saw the way Hawkins looked. His gaze troubled and frustrated.

  And beneath that, he was calculating. He didn’t like the line she’d drawn, and now he had to decide whether to fire her on the spot or find a new way to get what he wanted.

  She hoped he at least gave her time to find and break into his second safe.

  Molly had searched his bedroom when she’d gone in daily to make the bed and sweep, dust, whatever was required. She’d looked behind all the pictures and in the closet. She thought the only place it could be was the floor. But she’d started her search with the floor, and there was nothing. Rachel had believed strongly, based on the type of safe he purchased and the blueprints she’d studied of the house, that there was a safe concealed somewhere, and she’d said the floor was a strong possibility, so Molly had to look again. And she was wary of staying in there for too long. Mr. Hawkins was almost always just downstairs, and he’d notice if she lingered. And he’d absolutely notice if she went to the third floor—if she could get into it. For a time-consuming, detailed search she had to wait until he went away.

  All of the searching was overwhelming. She hoped Hawkins didn’t take her demand to fire her or behave to heart. She needed more time in this house.

  Hawkins scowled, then relaxed his expression, back to the charm. It was so easy after a week in his presence to see how false that oily charm was. She shuddered to think of the man being married to Win’s poor mother.

  He eased back in his chair. She could see he wasn’t going to push this now. Not because he knew he was behaving badly, but because of his belief in his own powers of persuasion.

  She could also really see him as a man who might have killed someone. Someone who frustrated him, who didn’t give in. Or maybe that wasn’t even right. Maybe he killed women whether they frustrated him or not.

  Maybe he just killed women he had access to.

  Molly thought of her father. She knew firsthand that men existed who hurt women, and no one much interfered. At first, she wasn’t sure that was Hawkins, who had seemed lazy more than evil. Now she could see a man who would strike out if he was challenged by someone who was inferior to him. And in his twisted mind, that would be every woman. But she’d joined this fight, and she would stop him from ever hurting anyone again.

  “Kevin, I want to ride over and visit my father.”

  Kevin, lying beside her in bed, sat up so suddenly her head dropped off his shoulder. “But why? You’ve never wanted to go see him before. You even hoped he’d heard about our wedding through gossip so we wouldn’t have to stop by and see him.”

  She tugged on his arm, and he came back down beside her. He loved this woman. Loved her beyond reason. Cherished every moment she was in his arms. But right now, he wanted to knock on her head to see if anyone was home.

  “Remember we talked one night at the table, all of us, about honoring our parents?”

  “Yes, one of the commandments. ‘Honor thy father and mother; which is the first commandment with a promise. That it may be well with thee, and thou mayest live long on the earth.’ We talked about having some mighty poor parents to choose from, and how do you honor someone who’s lived a long life of cheating and being the worst kind of thief?”

  Win moved to rest her head on his shoulder again. She slept close to him every night, and he reveled in it. She filled a lonely place in his heart that he
hadn’t even known was there. And when he’d told her that, she’d glowed and told him she felt just the same.

  No longer alone.

  “I’ve been thinking about that.” She settled into his arms. “About how to honor my wretched father. Even if he doesn’t turn out to be a murderer, he was never kind. Never wanted me around. He was eager to send me off to live with Cheyenne’s family. All while he’d speak ill of them because he didn’t consider Cheyenne and her ma to be ladylike. They were working hard outside while Pa sat inside, living off my mother’s wealth. So how do I honor a man who never cared about me? Never gave me any time or love or kindness. Was never in any real way a father to me.”

  “And have you figured it out? Because I’d like to hear it if you have. I can’t quite believe it’s right to honor a man such as Clovis Hunt.”

  “Your pa is dead. I think that puts him beyond anything you can do.” Win sat up, and Kevin saw her clearly in the moonlight that came through the window. It bathed her in blue, her hair like midnight, her skin mysterious and cool. “But my pa is right here, nearby. All I can think of to honor him is . . . is . . .” Shaking her head, she went on, “It’s not enough, maybe it’s not even right, but I think I honor him by not being like him. By praying for him. By talking to him if he gives me a chance.”

  “You’d have to be careful not to warn him or make him suspicious of Molly.”

  Nodding, Win lay down again. “I can’t have a really frank talk with him about how he’s hurt me, not now. But I can pray for him. I can be courteous and go see him. And when this is over, assuming he’s locked up tight somewhere, I can . . . can treat him like Jesus treated those in prison, those who were lame or sick or hungry. I can confront him with the truth and give him a chance to be honest with me.”

  “Where’s there a prison around here? It might be hard to go visit.”

  “I can write him letters.” She reached over and patted Kevin on the arm. “But before we lock him up, I can begin honoring him as I see fit. And to do that, I have to go see him. You’ll get to see Molly, maybe even pull her aside and speak to her, nothing would be more natural than a brother wanting to visit his sister, and it would make sense you’d step away just a bit from Pa to have a quiet talk with her.”

  “That won’t work because I’d never leave you alone with him.”

  That got Win’s attention. “You really think I’m in danger from my own father?”

  Kevin hesitated before he said, “I think, that is, I’m afraid that, yes, maybe you really are in danger.”

  “Well, maybe you can step out of the room with me and Pa but not go far.”

  “Maybe.” He pulled her close to sleep, glad he had someone so perfect in his arms.

  Wyatt dug a pitchfork into a pile of old straw and heaved it into a wheelbarrow to carry outside. He had the stalls all cleaned, and he’d gotten the seven men who worked there to get busy. They were lazy but not so much they wanted to head down the road. He thought he might be able to turn them into real cowhands given time.

  The barn was almost cleaned out. The horses and cattle were now being cared for. A chicken coop had eggs being gathered regularly. The place was shaping up. And it burned bad to be clearing things up so well for that lazy half-wit Hawkins.

  But he did it. Part of it was simple honesty: he was earning good wages, he’d give an honest day’s work. Part of it was caring for the animals. Wyatt couldn’t abide seeing an animal in pain or hungry and ailing if it was within his power to help it.

  And mostly he did it thinking of Win. This would be hers someday. And seeing as how Wyatt intended to see Hawkins hanged, that day was coming soon.

  He was getting the place in shape for a new owner. His friend Win and her husband, Kevin, who still hadn’t found a place to live or built a cabin. And that was not their fault. They kept being needed at the RHR.

  With Clovis’s wedding to Wyatt’s ma now strongly suspected by the family to be bigamous, Kevin had no ownership of the RHR. Of course, to break the will, they had to prove the wedding was a sham, and they’d been mighty busy rounding up outlaws and investigating crimes.

  Kevin hadn’t asked for much. A hundred acres that’d grow a crop. On the RHR, a forty-thousand-acre ranch, they oughta be able to do that. Kevin even said he’d pay rent or buy the place over time. He made it clear staying in the ramrod’s house felt like charity. But now that Win was back running the household, and Kevin was being called on to do what could be done to fill in for Wyatt around the ranch, he was more than earning his keep.

  Wyatt felt a pang of worry over the RHR. He hoped Cheyenne had moved home. They always worked with a skeleton crew over the winter. So the hands that didn’t wander off were hard-pressed to get things done. Cheyenne could handle things. And maybe she’d encourage Falcon to find some cowboy skills. Rubin had trained Andy, and he had several cowpokes to help him. But Kevin was a raw beginner. Jesse, one of the newer hands, had seemed eager to work with Kevin. Wyatt sure hoped someone could teach Kevin to like ranching because he was probably going to be stuck doing it the rest of his life.

  It made Wyatt grind his teeth in frustration to wonder how things were going at the RHR. He hadn’t heard a word from anyone at home since he’d come over here.

  With satisfaction, Wyatt plunged his pitchfork back into the straw, enjoying the crunch of digging out the old to make way for the new. No reason this couldn’t be Kevin’s land. Wyatt intended to see Kevin and Win settled in here.

  He worked out the day, keeping at it long after the rest of the hands turned in. He ate with them in the bunkhouse, returned to his work, then finally went to his cabin for the night and waited for the lights to go out in the big house.

  “We have to wait until Molly and Wyatt get back.” Rachel was adamant.

  And yes, Cheyenne had gotten to calling her Rachel. Truth was, Cheyenne liked the woman. Rachel was ruthless. She wanted to crush an evil man beneath her bootheels. She wanted to earn a living.

  Cheyenne could not find anything in that to object to.

  “It’ll take a day. That’s all,” Cheyenne insisted. “You can ride out after dark. You can’t send the telegram from Bear Claw Pass nor Casper. Too many people know what’s gone on around here. The will, the rustling, the name of my ranch, and they may remember your involvement in all of it, Rachel. Word could get out. It could reach Hawkins, and that would put Molly and Wyatt in danger. You’ll have to use White Rock Station, that’s the next place east that you can send a telegram. You can reach it by riding overnight. If you send the wire in the morning, include a notice to expect a letter explaining everything in detail. Mail travels fast now, so it should reach your agency in a matter of days. The wire will give them enough information to be ready to move when details arrive. Your agent can get ready to travel, unless they have agents in Tennessee—”

  Rachel shook her head. “I’ve never heard we had agents that far south, but I’m not sure. There may be other private investigating agencies we can work with. But even if no agents are there, they will have some closer to Tennessee than Chicago.”

  With a nod of satisfaction, Cheyenne said, “Good. An agent will have time to pack and prepare to travel as soon as the letter arrives.”

  “If Wyatt comes running on that day, saying they have what they need to arrest Hawkins, and I’m not here—”

  “This can wait, Cheyenne.” Kevin would not cooperate. “There’s no rush to settle the estate.”

  “There’d be no rush to set the investigation in motion before winter crashes down, if I could just go to Bear Claw Pass,” Rachel said. “But until we have evidence to take to the sheriff about Clovis, I don’t dare trust the telegraph operator not to talk. And in Casper, with Randall Kingston, that lawyer Clovis hired to make sure his will was airtight, living there, I don’t trust him not to hear about it. Any news about the RHR would draw his interest. Word could get back to Hawkins.”

  Cheyenne couldn’t believe she’d considered marrying that man. She fel
t embarrassment creeping every time the memory swept over her. She was fairly dark skinned, so she hoped a blush didn’t show. But she was tired of the back of her neck getting hot.

  “So we’ll do it in the spring.” Kevin acted like it was all settled.

  Rachel shook her head. “By spring we’ll have let almost a year go by. Especially when you add the time it might take to run our investigation. When these legal matters have dragged on that long, a judge might consider them settled and not overrule it. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, and the ownership will have stood for a decent amount of time. I don’t think we should let this go on that long. Falcon, do you think we can track down the date of your mother’s death?”

  He nodded. “The circuit rider wrote down things like births and deaths. He’d have the exact dates, in the church in Chickahoochi Cove. And I know the parson came out. It’s hard to say how he’d heard about Ma passin’, but word seemed to spread up and down the holler like it was carried on the wind. He didn’t make it for the buryin’, but he came along soon after and prayed over Ma’s grave and talked to me about coming out with him. He offered to let me live with him.”

  “And you didn’t go?” Cheyenne asked. “You were so young, and you chose to live alone?”

  Falcon shrugged. “The parson was a fine man, but he was married and had six kids, in a one-bedroom cabin not much bigger’n mine. I should’ve probably offered to take some of his young’uns in with me. He sure enough didn’t need another.”

  Cheyenne patted him on the shoulder but didn’t comment.

  “I probably knew enough to say, ‘Ma died last week,’ or, ‘Ma’s been gone three days.’ Something that’d give him a decent guess at the date. He’d’ve written it down. Send someone to Chickahoochi Cove to look at the church papers.”

  “I’ll ride out tonight.” Rachel stood from the table. “I’ll gather a few things to take. Are you sure the town on past Casper is far enough?”

 

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