Owen knew that, still, he hoped he could find some kind of clue here. Now he realized how foolish that was of him. He would catch Ghost by biding his time and waiting for the arrogant bastard to make a mistake. There was no other way.
“My men are all honest thieves,” Jack continued, unaware of Owen’s little reverie. “Ghost is something different, something evil,” he spat.
Owen could not agree more. Not that he was about to share that with Jack.
There was another thing he wished to ask Jack while he was there, though. Owen procured a couple of pictures from his pockets. He knew those images by heart and he handed them over to Jack, who watched him with interest while accepting them.
“Did you see any of these girls?” Owen knew he was grasping at straws. He had to try, nevertheless. He owed those girls that much.
Jack looked at the pictures intently. “No, none of these girls look familiar. Ghost snatched all of them?” Jack asked and Owen had no intention of answering.
“Shame,” Jack proceeded. “Oh, I would definitely remember her,” he held up a picture of Jessamine Reynolds, and some of the men inside the bar started catcalling.
Owen snatched the picture back from Jack’s hands. “We wasted enough time here, they know nothing,” Owen told Kit who simply nodded. Kit looked so grim, Owen was surprised he did not manage to burn this whole place with his stare alone.
“Leaving so soon?” Jack placed a hand over his heart as if he was hurt by the Sheriff’s sudden departure. Owen felt like hitting the man.
“Be good, Jack.”
“You know me,” Jack was quick to reply, straightening his stained shirt. “I am always good.”
“I do know you, that is why I said it. Do not make me come back here, you won’t like me much,” Owen warned without any pretenses.
“I don’t like ya regardless,” Jack spat.
Owen let him have that last say, fully knowing the other man had to keep face if he wanted to continue running these bands of criminals.
As far as Owen was concerned, it was far better to have a devil he knew in that position than somebody new.
Owen looked at the skies above as he left the tavern, as though seeking some divine assistance.
“So that was a complete bust,” Kit stated the obvious.
Maybe not.
Yes, they did not learn anything about Ghost. Owen hoped if Ghost learned the Sheriff and his men were searching about, turning every stone to find him, he would panic and make a mistake.
They returned to the station and Owen spent the next couple of hours interrogating all the lowlifes that resided inside their cells. That bore no fruit at all. Nobody knew Ghost. Owen was getting more and more frustrated by the second.
Somebody must know something, he prayed to the Almighty.
“Clark,” Owen yelled. “Where is the physician’s report regarding Miss Susannah's death?”
“He still did not have the opportunity to examine the body, he was busy with his patients.”
“So what are you doing here?” Owen snapped, fully knowing Clark was not the source of his wrath.
The young deputy nodded and hurried away.
Kit approached him slowly, witnessing the whole exchange, like the rest of the people inside the office, and sat on the edge of his desk.
“Let’s call it a night,” Kit urged, probably realizing Owen was dead set on staying. He felt like sleeping in the office until he caught the Ghost. Not the healthiest of methods, he was aware of that. The guilt Owen was feeling did not let him be for even a second. It was better to work then.
“We will catch him tomorrow.”
“I cannot go home,” Owen blurted out.
Kit sighed. “Then we’ll go for a drink.”
Owen started shaking his head and Kit was having none of it. Eventually, Owen let Kit drag him to the bar where he drank his sorrows away. And he had a lot of them. Owen could not stop picturing those poor girls’ faces, staged in their death, tormented while they were alive.
They must have been so scared in their final moments.
Owen drained another glass of whiskey.
“We have to find him, Kit,” he told his friend in a rare moment of weakness. “I cannot keep finding these dead girls in my district.” Their faces were haunting him, demanding justice.
“We will,” Kit was unyielding. “We will and then there will be hell to pay.”
Owen prayed with all his might that his friend was right.
* * *
Days passed without any real progress. Owen was none the wiser regarding Ghost, and that infuriated him almost to the point of madness.
How does he do it? How does he keep eluding us?
“I want to be the one tying a noose around Ghost's neck,” he shouted, banging both his hands against the old wooden desk he was occupying.
The whole department went to Susannah's funeral that morning and it was beyond heartbreaking seeing her family in such pain.
So many families lost their loved ones because of this monster!
Owen felt like an utter failure, and nothing he did felt like enough. He did not let that put him in despair. He was simply that much more motivated to catch this guy.
“Preaching to the choir, Boss,” Gibson spoke up.
That reminded Owen. “Did Mr. Dalbow show up while I was away?” He asked.
“As far as I know, he did not.”
Owen growled, letting all his frustration show on his face. “I told him to come.” Part of him would be delighted if Mr. Dalbow decided to ignore Owen’s request to come to give his statement, because that would mean Owen would have to go to the ranch and drag the other man back here.
“We watched him as you requested,” James decided to speak up. “He doesn’t seem to leave the ranch at all. He works all day.”
After he spoke with Miss Hope and learned Jessamine was to meet Mr. Dalbow in her stead, he ordered his men to watch the ranch as closely as possible without being detected. He wanted to know everything that man did, no matter how big or small.
“And what about Miss Hope?” Owen wanted to know.
“She’s there as well,” James replied while nodding. “Sometimes she helps him, but mostly she’s inside the house.”
Owen felt like he could breathe again. At least Miss Hope appeared to be safe and sound. Learning that, Owen could concentrate on other tasks.
“Speak of the devil,” Kit said under his breath as Mr. Dalbow walked into the office.
“I came as you instructed,” Mr. Dalbow said to Owen instead of a more formal greeting.
“Good day to you, too,” Owen managed to choke out. He disliked the man, it couldn’t be helped. And something was telling him the feeling was mutual, especially since Miss Hope entered their lives.
Mr. Dalbow sat opposite to Owen without invitation. Owen let that slide. There was no point in antagonizing the man, yet. Mr. Dalbow sighed as though it pained him to be there. That makes two of us. “I came even though I fail to see why it is necessary.”
“Miss Jessamine disappeared when she was supposed to be with you,” Owen stated. “And you fail to see the connection?” Owen had to work really hard not to raise his voice.
“She did not come to my ranch,” Mr. Dalbow insisted.
“That is why I need your official statement,” Owen replied patiently.
“Very well,” Mr. Dalbow sighed again. “I am but your humble servant.”
Nope, still don’t like the guy.
And by the look Kit gave him, his deputy did not like him either. And that cheered Owen to no end for some reason.
“Walk me through the day of Miss Jessamine Reynolds’ disappearance, and note any alibi you can provide,” Owen instructed.
Mr. Wyatt Dalbow nodded and started to speak. Based on what he said, Owen soon realized the man worked all day on the ranch, the same as always.
“Can anyone confirm you were there at all times?”
“My foreman can, Jo Dawson.”<
br />
Owen continued to question him about some other dates, when the other girls went missing, however, Mr. Dalbow had alibis for them as well.
Blast!
“Is that all, Sheriff?” Mr. Dalbow inquired after he answered all of Owen’s questions.
Unfortunately.
Owen looked at the other man. He would really like for him to be the bad guy. Sadly, he was clean as a whistle. Maybe he's too clean.
“Yes, that is all. You are free to go,” Owen replied, reluctantly. Perhaps he made a mistake and Mr. Dalbow was a decent enough guy.
Besides, Ghost took Jessamine, Owen was sure of that, so all his energy should be on finding that monstrous serial killer.
“I do hope you will catch your killer,” Mr. Dalbow wished before departing.
Owen planned on doing just that, no matter what.
18
Hope felt restless on Mr. Dalbow’s ranch. She tried going to see Sheriff Owen a few days back but couldn’t find him. The deputies that were in the office did not want to share any information with her. They were pretty glum-looking and it became more than apparent to her that something bad occurred.
Naturally, her first thought was that it had something to do with Jessamine. Perhaps they had a breakthrough in the case or managed to find her, alive or dead. She banished such thoughts almost immediately since that did not seem likely. Despite his busy schedule, Sheriff Owen would find the time and means to inform her if something regarding Jessamine happened. Hope was sure of that.
So Hope decided to return to the ranch and stay there for a few days then try again. She was not giving up, merely acknowledging Sheriff Owen was a preoccupied man who had many cases apart from Jessamine’s and countless other responsibilities. As much as it pained her to wait, that was what she needed to do. That did not mean she was sitting idle.
Mr. Dalbow was rather enjoying having an additional helper around the ranch, he told her repeatedly. Mostly, she kept him company while he did all kinds of chores. Because despite her protests, he never allowed her to do anything that he considered too hard, which proved to be basically everything. Hope was working on persuading him she was not that delicate, and it somewhat worked.
“You have to make this nice and tight or the animals could break free,” he explained to her while mending a portion of a fence.
“Or the predators could break in,” Hope countered and Mr. Dalbow nodded. “Precisely.”
Hope heard there were a lot of coyotes roaming about on the land, but so far she did not spot a single one. She was curious to see what they looked like. Not too curious, though.
“Mind if I try?” Hope asked, and he nodded in return, if a bit reluctantly, giving her the proper tools. Mr. Dalbow still watched over her, closely, as to not get hurt. She copied all of his steps to the smallest of details.
“Like this?” She asked, wiping some sweat from her brow. She rather liked working outside, Hope was surprised to discover.
Her end product was not as precise, or secure as his was, however, that could be explained by experience which she was lacking. Either way, Mr. Dalbow looked pleased.
“Very good, Miss Hope,” he complimented. “I do believe you are a natural cowgirl,” he complimented and Hope beamed. Personally, she wouldn’t go that far. She would accept the praise because it felt good to be of use.
“Thank you.” Hope was finally starting to feel as though she was contributing, and that meant everything to her. She wanted this life to be different than her previous one. Her father wanted her to be nothing more than an obedient ornament. She chose a different path and had to go to extremes to break free, so she would make the most out of the freedom she won in the process.
“I knew you would excel,” he continued. “You are simply good at everything,” he exaggerated, making her feel slightly uncomfortable. There was a glint in his eyes while he was saying all that, and he moved toward her as though to kiss her.
Hope quickly moved out of reach and Mr. Dalbow ended up kissing her cheek. If he felt disappointed by that turn of events he hid it quickly. Hope’s heart was pounding wildly and not from the exertion that was due to the manual labor. His advances were making her anxious.
“Ah, dear Miss Hope,” he said, returning to his previous position. “You are just too sweet.”
Before she could say anything to that he added, “Shall we move on to the next task?” She was grateful they surpassed that awkward moment. She simply nodded and was relieved he did not decide to press the issue and continued with the work at hand.
That was not the first time Mr. Dalbow tried to kiss her. Hope made a decision she would do her best to get to know him and see if there was a genuine connection between them, not one born out of her necessity for a home. Unfortunately, he was moving too fast for her liking. For the past couple of days, there were a few moments in which Hope found herself enjoying Mr. Dalbow’s company.
The first time was when he read her poetry after dinner.
“Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mixed; sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does please
With meditation...”
“That was lovely,” she said afterward. “Do read another one,” she pleaded and he was kind enough to oblige. Hope liked his taste in poetry since it was so close to her own. She was surprised to discover she enjoyed some of his favorites she hadn’t even heard before.
Hope also enjoyed it while they worked side by side—when he wasn't trying to kiss her. A kiss was still rather unimaginable for her to share with him. She could not explain why she was resisting. Hope felt that was a line she could not cross. At least not yet.
So she only ever let him kiss her hands and occasionally her cheek. Hope was not repulsed by the man. Unfortunately, she could not hide the fact she was hesitant.
Blissfully, they worked in silence for a while so she got the opportunity to sort through her emotions. Sadly, it got her nowhere. Hope felt she was running in circles. Mr. Dalbow appeared to be a fine man and any girl would be lucky if he chose her for his companion.
So why are you not feeling lucky? She did not know the answer to that question, which was the cause of her frustration.
“You are a delight to have around, Miss Hope.” He snapped her from her reverie.
“Oh, you are too kind.”
“I am simply stating the facts,” he insisted. “Are you ready for us to move onto the barn? I have to mend some stalls. Or would you prefer to rest for a bit?”
“Lead the way.”
He chuckled. “Always so eager. I do wish all of my workers were as dedicated as you are,” he joked.
Hope felt the need to point out she was not doing much. In the end she remained silent, as she did not want to make him feel bad. He was simply a gentleman.
Hope observed him as he continued to make small talk. Mr. Dalbow is such a fine man. So why was she so reluctant to give in to him? She asked herself for the hundredth time.
You know why, the other part of her snapped back. A very handsome figure came to mind. She chose to completely ignore that voice and the image it showed her.
“Miss Hope, I need you to hold this ladder for me nice and steady, all right?” Mr. Dalbow instructed.
“All right,” Hope replied, determined to stay in the present, do the work, and forget about everything, or anyone else.
“I am putting my trust and my life into your hands,” he only half-joked.
Hope ordered her palms to remain dry as she did his bidding. She was concentrating really hard at the task at hand, trying to prove to herself she did not fancy anybody else.
It was always satisfactory retiring after the day of hard work. Hope would simply be too exhausted to do anything other than fall asleep, which suited her perfectly.
Mr. Dalbow had to leave the ranch every week or so to visit nearby towns for all kinds of business meetings and arrangements. He always looked sad while leaving her. As she could gather they wer
e necessary and she did not mind. He tried sharing some of the details of his work with her. As with her father before, Hope found that aspect rather tedious, boring, and not something she enjoyed listening to. Although she tried to put up an effort since it was important to Mr. Dalbow.
As it turned out, Hope preferred all kinds of manual labor opposed to the business side of it. The instant gratification it provided was what appealed to her. She worked with her hands and as a result, she created something that could be immediately used. For her, that was an amazing experience.
The Redemption 0f A Hunted Bride (Historical Western Romance) Page 17