Disregarding the fact that both men were older than him, Robert had all the authority; what he said was the law. It did not harm that he was tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular, not to mention armed, and if they had a problem with that... well, Robert had a way of making them see things his way, always.
“Did I make myself clear?” Robert looked each man in the eyes, daring them to contradict him. Even though they were not pleased with what he said, they were not complete fools and reluctantly nodded in agreement.
“Excellent.” Robert was pleased for about three seconds, since the fighting shortly after that resumed, now for a completely different reason. Mr. O'Banion believed Mr. Hanessy should sell him the bull calf, and of course, Mr. Hanessy wanted things to be the other way around.
Oh, for crying out loud. Robert realized this could go on forever if he didn't force a solution of his own on them. But what was he to do about a cow? Then a solution presented itself to him, and it was even more ridiculous than the fight. “Gentlemen, I believe I have a solution,” Robert interfered, grudgingly. “I am willing to buy the bull calf, and you can evenly split the profit from it.” He felt ridiculous saying that, though he did not see another choice.
The things I have to do to keep the peace.
The ranchers looked at one another. “That could work, if the price is good,” Mr. O'Banion said.
“I agree,” Mr. Hanessy replied, and they shook hands.
Was that really that hard to achieve? Robert felt like snapping at them. He remained silent for obvious reasons.
Once they struck a bargain and Robert paid for the animal, he sighed in relief. He managed to settle this without bloodshed. “I wish you gentlemen a good day.” And with that, he mounted his horse and departed.
Slowly returning to the sheriff's station, he looked at the tied young calf walking beside him. He still could not believe he actually ended up in such a situation. What am I to do with a bull? He didn't even have a proper yard.
Mrs. Potts, his housekeeper, will be overjoyed when he returns home with Samson? Nolan? How in God's name will he explain this? More importantly, what was he going to do with it? It wasn't as though he could keep it as a pet. Robert glanced at the animal again.
Nolan/Samson, or whatever it was called, stared back at him as if knowing Robert was thinking about the future. Then something else occurred to him, and Robert couldn't help but groan. His deputies will have a good laugh for weeks because of this.
“This is all your fault,” he told the calf, waiting for an apology in return, but honestly, Robert would be worried if he had received one.
* * *
Entering the station, Robert ignored all the questioning glances thrown his way. It was obvious they all saw him tying a bull calf next to his horse and were dying of curiosity to know why. Robert planned on keeping them that way for as long as he could.
“Don't ask,” he said to all while getting to his desk. He should have known things wouldn't go as he wished. After all, he trained most of the men and knew them inside and out.
“Now, we have to ask, though.” Deputy Bane was the first that spoke up, just as Robert knew he would.
“Yes, Sheriff, do tell,” Deputy Ross joined in.
Robert sighed; he knew they would not leave him alone or rest until they heard the whole story. That's their problem.
“Don't you have work to do? I know I do,” he grumbled, ignoring their previous words, yet they kept staring at him.
Sometimes they acted like small children. “If you were half as good at your job as you are at gossiping,” Robert continued in the same fashion, “this town would be completely rid of crime.”
“And you are deflecting,” Deputy Ross said and grinned.
“Fine,” Robert replied reluctantly. He told them the reason old Mr. O'Banion and Mr. Hanessy fought, and just as predicted his deputies laughed so hard the whole office shook. They even managed to wake up Killian Reese, an old drunk that frequently slept by their door. “All right, all right, settle down,” Robert protested eventually. “You had your laugh, now go back to work,” he commanded, and miraculously they complied.
Suddenly, a priest busted into the office. He looked out of breath, which instantly put Robert on high alert. He jumped back up on his feet, putting a hand on his revolver ready to face any threat. His deputies did the same.
“Thank God I found you here,” Father exclaimed between taking puffs of breath.
“Father, what is the matter?” Robert asked the old man without preamble, because he looked like something grave occurred, and Robert did not want to waste any time on pleasantries. Father waved with his hand showing all the signs of fatigue, so Robert offered him a chair to sit in and have a little respite.
Father sent him a grateful look, falling into it, clearly exhausted. One of the deputies offered him a tall glass of water, and he drank it in one go without pausing. “Thank you,” he said afterward, and Robert simply nodded. He wanted to urge the priest to start talking, but he couldn't do that while he was in such state. It would be unfavorable.
While the Father tried to compose himself, Robert tried to place him. He looked familiar. Robert did not know why. The only thing Robert knew for certain was that he wasn't from Fort Mohave since they already had a priest, Father Ezekiel, and he was a dear friend of Robert's. The priest confirmed his guesses once he started speaking. “I apologize for my state of disarray. Unfortunately, I am quite unaccustomed to riding such a long distance on horseback. Alas, the situation required that of me.”
“No need for you to apologize, Father,” Robert instantly reassured him. “Just tell us what brings you here today.”
Father nodded, grateful, before continuing. “My name is Father Mathew, and I am from Oatman.”
Robert nodded, finally placing the man. Oatman was a much smaller town at the base of Rocky Mountains. Robert was somewhat familiar with it yet wasn't such a frequent guest of it. His deputies were the ones that traveled there if some kind of trouble arose, since the town of Oatman did not have its own sheriff.
Robert introduced himself and his men in return. “Tell us what is the matter, Father?”
“A murder occurred. One of my parishioners, a woman named Elsa Potter, was found dead today on her ranch. And I came here to beg for your help since we do not have anyone else to turn to, and a heinous crime occurred.”
It was more than clear Father Mathew was highly distraught by what happened, so Robert tried to put him at ease to the best of his abilities. “No need for begging. Of course, we will help,” he told the old man.
“I will go to Oatman immediately and resolve this matter,” Deputy Bane offered.
Robert was having none of it. “I will go myself,” Robert told his deputy in return.
“As you wish, Sheriff,” Bane replied. Bane was a good man, hard working as well. Robert knew there was another reason he wanted to visit Oatman. Deputy Bane had a sweetheart there, and Robert simply couldn't let someone who would have split interest take the journey, not with a clear conscience. “Thank you, Sheriff Bradway,” Father Mathew replied.
“I will come with you to Oatman right this instant and do everything in my power to find the culprit,” Robert vowed.
Father Mathew grabbed both his hands, squeezing them tightly. “God bless you, my son,” he exclaimed, clearly surprised he did not need to plead for help further.
Robert heard some of the other sheriffs had such tendencies, liked to act as if they were doing the townspeople great favors for solving crimes, but he considered that to be his duty, so he really meant what he said. “Let's go, Father,” Robert urged the other man, feeling a bit uncomfortable in this situation.
Father made a face as if sucking on a sour grape. “I must admit, I do not look forward to getting back up on that horse,” he confessed remorsefully.
Robert was just about to suggest that he should stay and rest when it occurred to him that the Father was his only guide to Oatman and the single tie he
had to this case. Unfortunately, Robert needed him, so Father Mathew would simply have to endure. “It's just a matter of habit and practice, Father.”
“I suppose,” he replied, slowly getting up. He said his farewells before exiting, while Robert stayed behind for a few moments longer to give orders to his deputies. He couldn't say for how long he would be away, so he needed to make sure they knew what needed to be done here in the meantime.
Robert was at the door when Deputy Ross stopped him. “What are we to do with your calf, Sheriff?” he asked, barely keeping a straight face.
Robert gritted his teeth. These clowns were going to use this to get on his nerves for weeks to come, maybe even longer, he was sure of it; and there was nothing he could do about it.
“Sell it, eat it, keep it as a mascot. I do not care,” Robert snapped back, walking out. He heard their laughter long after mounting and riding away. It would irritate him to no end but deep down he knew he would act in the same fashion if roles were reversed.
They were on the outskirts of Fort Mohave when Robert started speaking again. “Father, I want you to tell me everything you know about this incident.”
“About Elsa?”
“Not right now,” although they would certainly come to that as well. “Just about her murder. Where did it occur, who found her, things like that,” he explained.
“Unfortunately, my knowledge is rather limited. A neighbor, a friend, discovered her earlier today. She died in her own house, I know that much.”
“And what is the name of a person who found her?”
“Stephanie Laurel, who was a long-standing friend of Elsa, and Stephanie's daughter, Geraldine. Geraldine was actually the one who came to inform me of what happened. The poor girl did not know what to do herself, so she came to find me and asked for my help.”
Robert made a note inside his head to speak with both Stephanie and Geraldine Laurel. “She actually wanted to come herself to Fort Mohave and find you,” the Father continued, snapping Robert from his reverie. “I refused her, of course. This is no journey for a young girl to make alone.”
Robert agreed wholeheartedly. “And Miss Laurel is quite certain it was a murder?”
“Sadly, yes. By the way she described it to me, Elsa Potter was strangled to death. Poor thing, God bless her soul.” He crossed himself and recited a small prayer.
Robert's mind started to work as they traveled, even though he did not have a great deal of information to work with. He knew the poor woman's name and not much apart from it, of course, that will change once they reach her ranch.
There was another reason he wanted to be in charge of this case and not Deputy Bane. Something about this case reminded him of the murder of his father and brother, although, on a much more reasonable level, they had nothing similar between one another apart from occurring on the ranch but nevertheless that made him determined to discover what truly happened to Elsa Potter.
No matter what.
Chapter Seven
Robert was pleased when they finally arrived in Oatman. The sky was slowly darkening, and he knew he had a million things to do before nightfall, so time was of the essence. “How far is Mrs. Potter's ranch from the town?” he asked the priest.
Robert had to admit he was pleased and a bit surprised by Father Mathew's behavior. It was apparent the man of God was highly uncomfortable riding at the fast pace Robert set for the journey, and he never complained. Not even once. He knew some deputies who could whine like babies in comparison, despite the fact they rode every day. “Miss Potter,” Father corrected him. “She was unmarried.” Suddenly he looked rather uncomfortable saying that, and Robert had an inkling why that was the case.
Elsa Potter clearly has a certain reputation in town, he mused. That could be of vital importance while solving this case. He would definitely look into that, press the priest if he had to for the whole story. Robert did not care if that left the father feeling uncomfortable, since he was in pursuit of the truth, and that trumped everything else.
Townspeople started eyeing the pair, clearly curious to know why the sheriff was in town. So, the word about Elsa Potter's demise hasn't spread completely around town, he was pleased about that. “So, she lived alone?” Robert asked, snapping himself from his musings.
“Yes. And the ranch isn't that far, we would perhaps need a quarter of an hour to reach it,” Father Mathew answered his first question.
“Excellent.”
Reaching the estate, Robert gripped his pistol out of precaution before marching inside the house. The sky was getting darker. There was enough light for Robert to see somewhat comfortably while searching Miss Potter's home. “Did Miss Laurel say where she discovered the body?”
“In the kitchen. It's through there.” Father Mathew provided guidance once again, since Robert was unfamiliar with the layout.
“Father, please stay close to me,” Robert advised. Maybe he was overcautious. In truth, he did not expect the murderer to still be roaming about.
It's better to be safe than sorry.
The door was wide open, and Robert marched inside. Because of the angle of the rapidly disappearing light that came through a small window, Robert could see the shape of the body on the floor. “She is still here,” Robert wasn't even aware he shared his thoughts when Father Mathew answered him.
“Of course; apart from the Laurels, Mr. Rose who is Oatman's mortician, and myself, no one knows about this. I wanted you to see everything before we took care of her.”
Robert nodded in approval. “Thank you.”
His surprise maybe did not seem logical, however, it was rooted in past experiences. Once, he arrived at a scene of a murder and there was no dead body to be seen. Robert was annoyed and demanded to know if that was some kind of a jest only to be informed they took the body away to the mortician's parlor because it was not proper to be left out in the open. Proper. They expected him to solve a murder after cleaning everything up. The arguments he had back then were epic yet in the end, he was victorious, solved the case as well.
Snapping back from his reverie, Robert focused on Elsa Potter. He moved closer for a better look while Father Mathew stayed away, which was fine by him.
Elsa Potter was sprawled on the ground, in a somewhat uncomfortable position. She had a noose made out of regular rope tied around her neck; she had been strangled to death, and that could explain her position if she struggled. Robert was convinced she did.
Everybody does. Even the ones that want to die. Robert had to watch a lot of public hangings, and that was always the case, because humans have a natural survival instinct that urged you to fight back no matter what.
The first thing he did was look at the ceiling for any exposed supportive beams. Even though this did not look like a suicide, he wanted to make sure. It was possible she did this to herself and the rope broke at some point, yet there were no signs that could support that theory; there were no remnants of the ropes hanging from the ceiling, no beams, so he scratched that one out.
This was a murder, Robert was sure of it, and with that set, he continued with his examination. She looked very frail and that meant she was easily subdued. Unfortunately, that would make his job difficult since the murderer could be anybody.
It got pretty dark inside while Robert thought of all the possibilities, and he had to squint to see. Suddenly a source of light appeared behind him. “I thought you could use this,” Father Mathew provided, carrying an oil lamp.
“Thank you,” Robert murmured while his eyes started to adjust. Robert stood up, taking the whole scene in. It was clear by the scattered, broken pieces of dishes that some kind of fight occurred previous to the murder. Elsa Potter fought with her attacker, but ultimately lost.
Robert wanted to get back here first thing in the morning and do a more thorough search in natural light. For now, he tried to engrave as many details as was possible under such poor lighting.
Something was extremely bugging him about this scene, whic
h made him reluctant to leave. And then he realized what it was. Elsa Potter's eyes were closed. They should have been open since she died in this manner. “Did Mrs. or Miss Laurel touch the body?” Robert wanted to make sure.
“Of course not.”
That could mean only one thing. The killer must have closed them after she died. Interesting.
“I saw everything I needed, for now, so you can call Mr. Rose to come for her. But I will certainly come back here tomorrow morning.”
“As you wish,” Father Mathew replied, and pulled a white sheet he had gathered at the same time as the lamp over Miss Potter's body before they left the house. Robert took a deep breath trying to clear his nose. “I am sure Mr. Rose will come by shortly. He saw us riding into town.”
The Sheriff's Rebellious Bride (Historical Western Romance) Page 7