“Aye?” He waited, but she seemed reluctant to speak. “What is it?”
“I am sorry for thinkin’ ill of you.”
“You are forgiven.”
“I dinna know there were such lasses in the world; lads perhaps, but not lasses. How do you suppose she keeps it all straight, havin’ so many husbands, I mean?”
“I dinna know.”
“Will she come here someday?”
“I hope not. She will ruin everythin’ if she does.”
“Dugan, do you find me pleasin’?”
He was not expecting that question at all. “I do.”
“I am relieved. I thought…I expected you to come for your kiss of a mornin’ and night, but you did not, and I thought it was because you did not find me pleasin’ after all.”
“I find you very pleasing.”
“Husband, I…I wish very much…that we…”
“Beverly, do you wish us to spend more time together?” He held his breath and waited for her answer.
“Could we?”
He couldn’t help but begin to smile. “Aye. What would you like to do?”
“I find this very pleasant.”
“As do I.” He pushed her a little higher and before long, his smile was complete.
“A subpoena?” Judge Mitchel asked. Seated behind his chambers desk, the judge stared at the sheriff.
“Six of them to be exact. The MacGreagors will not talk to me.”
“Why do you want to question them?”
“Judge, something mighty suspicious is going on here. I believe Mrs. Whitfield was kidnapped. Women don’t just disappear for no reason, not women who marry wealthy husbands.”
He should not have, but Glenn couldn’t help but chuckle. “I might have, if I married Charles Whitfield.” He noticed the look of disapproval on the judge’s face, and instantly went back to updating the court docket.
Judge Mitchel cleared his throat. “Do you have a suspect?”
“Mr. Hannish MacGreagor is behind it all. First, Wesley Bennet disappeared…”
Judge Mitchel narrowed his eyes. “As I recall, Wesley Bennet needed killing after what he did to Margaret Ann, and she wasn’t the first.”
“Judge, MacGreagor killed him as sure as I am standing here. Wesley…”
“You are barking up the wrong tree if you think MacGreagor killed him. He might have hurt him that night, and I hope he did, but I can name five other men who wanted him dead…and I am one of them!”
Sheriff Thompson lowered his eyes. “I did not know that.”
“Now you do.” Judge Mitchel was surprised by his sudden rage after all these months. He glanced at Glenn and then took a deep breath to calm down. “Do you have any proof that Mrs. Whitfield was kidnapped?”
Sheriff Thompson recounted his conversations with Lillian, Keith and the sheriff in St. Louis, but he could tell the Judge was not impressed. “Your honor, how can I get the proof, if the MacGreagors will not answer my questions? A subpoena is the only way.”
“Has anyone called demanding a ransom?”
“No, Abigail Whitfield says no one has contacted them, but Charles’ wife was kidnapped and now she is dead, your honor. I would bet next month’s pay on it.”
“Was there any sign of a struggle, any blood…do you have a body, Sherriff?”
“Well, no, but…”
“I cannot issue subpoenas if there is no proof of a crime.”
“Your honor, I…”
“Request denied.”
Reluctantly, the sheriff nodded, put his hat back on and left the room. Judge Mitchel stood up, walked to the window and looked out. McKenna was not there, but she came to town just the day before, so he didn’t expect her to be.
“What will you do if the sheriff comes up with some proof and the Denver District Attorney wants to press charges?” Glenn asked.
“Recuse myself. What else can I do?” He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “If she hates the sight of me now, I can not imagine what McKenna would think if I sent her brother to prison.”
“Perhaps you should go talk to her.”
“About what? You know I cannot tell her what the sheriff said, it is unethical.”
“I mean about the horse. Take Chester with you. Let the boy tell her what she will not allow you to say.”
*
Sheriff Thompson finally got up the nerve to ask Lillian to take a walk in the park with him, and he was glad when she agreed. They talked of other things for a while, admired the rows of trees lining the wide park walkway and when the air turned chilly, he took his jacket off and put it on her. At length, he asked, “I was hoping you could tell me more about the MacGreagors. Did they let you go or did you quit?”
“I quit the place and I was happy to.” She stopped and turned toward him. “Sheriff, I may have been mistaken.”
“About what?”
“About what I heard Mr. MacGreagor say about Mrs. Whitfield. I have given it a lot of thought, and I do not believe I got it right. Have you told anyone what I said?”
“Only the judge. What part did you get wrong?”
“All of it. Mr. MacGreagor had no reason to get rid of Charles Whitfield’s wife, and if the town finds out what I said, I will look foolish for having falsely accused him.”
“Oh, I see.”
“I might lose my position at the hotel, which I am very fortunate to still have, and I might never find another.”
“I understand. In that case, I won’t say a word.” He meant it too. Who was there to tell? Spreading gossip was never a good thing for a man in his position, the judge refused to order subpoenas and as far as he was concerned, his three mysterious cases would remain just that – mysterious. At last, Sheriff Thompson got brave enough to take her in his arms and kiss her.
*
“Miss McKenna?” Alistair asked.
She was just coming down the stairs when the butler approached her. “Aye.”
“Judge Mitchell is here and he has a laddie with him.”
“A laddie?” She cautiously walked into the foyer and looked out the window. Just as Alistair said, Judge Mitchel sat on his horse holding a boy in his lap. The child was slumped against him and looked very ill. Concerned, she nodded for Alistair to open the door, and walked out.
“Miss MacGreagor, this is Chester. He is five,” said the judge when she came close enough.
She smiled and reached her hand out to the little boy. “Hello, Chester. Are you unwell?” The child put his limp hand in hers and nodded. She let go of Chester’s hand and looked at the judge. “Have you taken him to the doctor?”
“Doc Parker doesn’t know what’s wrong, nor do the doctors in Denver,” said the judge.
“Is he your son?”
Judge Mitchel smiled. “I would like him to be, but his mother and I are just friends. I take him riding when I have the time. Chester, tell Miss MacGreagor what you saw?”
The little boys eyes widened and he threw out his arms. “A big black horse…this big.”
“And what is the horse’s name?” the judge asked.
The child brought a thumb to his chest. “Chester, just like me.”
McKenna smiled. “Chester is a very fine name.”
The little boy nodded. Again, his eyes grew large. “When I have Chester, I can ride like the wind. Judge Mitchel promised.”
“I see.” She gently patted the boy’s leg. “I should like to see you ride like the wind. Perhaps I might go with you?”
“Oh could you, Miss?”
She smiled. “We must catch the horse first, mustn’t we?”
“We?” Judge Mitchel asked.
“Well, you are not so very good at catching him, you must admit.” His smile warmed her heart and she returned with one of her own. She had been wrong about him and just now, the look in his eyes excited her. “Will you come in? I believe the cooks…”
“He gets tired quickly and I must take him back so he can rest. Perhaps another tim
e.” As soon as she stepped away from his horse, he started to go and then changed his mind. “Miss MacGreagor, will you ride with me later?”
“I would like that.”
“Three o’clock then.” Judge Mitchel tipped his hat, and slowly walked his horse back toward town. He had a grin on his face for the first time in weeks.
*
By the time Judge Mitchel arrived, McKenna was already on her horse waiting. As soon as he reached the end of the lane and motioned for her to come, she urged her horse forward and then rode beside him toward Manitou Springs. The autumn air smelled sweet, the wild flowers were losing their bloom, and a soft breeze made some of the last yellow and gold leaves detach from the tree branches and flutter to the ground.
“Will Chester die?” she asked finally.
“I hope not, but I suspect so. He becomes increasingly frail each day.”
“Could we buy him a black colt instead?”
“We could, but he cannot ride alone.” Each time she said ‘we’ it thrilled him and made him more hopeful.
“I suppose not. I have not seen the stallion in weeks. Tell me about his mother.”
“She owns the candle shop on 4th Street, and keeps a cot in the front for Chester so he can greet all the customers. Her husband makes the candles in the back.”
“I dinna know there was a candle shop in that part of town. I shall go see him when I am in town next.”
“Chester will like that. He never forgets a name or a face.”
“Hannish says the lights sometimes go out in winter and Marblestone is always in need of candles. I will place an order while I am there.”
“I am certain they could use the business.”
“That night after the weddings,” she started, “Why did you not just tell me about Chester?”
“I have wondered that myself. I suppose it is because I am a Judge and I am not accustomed to explaining myself. Then, when I realized my mistake, you would not read my letters.”
They rode in silence for a time. Every once in a while she glanced at him, wondering how she could have been so wrong. He was not the selfish man she thought he was. He was kind, generous with his time and obviously loved that little boy. “Our Orphanage Committee meets tomorrow, if Abigail is up to it. She was so excited to have a daughter-in-law, but now…well, I suppose you heard about that.”
He was tempted to ask a question about something the sheriff said, but decided against it. “How are your plans coming for the orphanage?”
“Slowly, I regret to say. We have yet to find a doctor and Abigail is insisting on one. She is right, of course.”
“Has the committee bought the house in Palmer Lake?”
“Nay, there is no point until we first find a doctor.”
“Perhaps I can help. I shall send a letter to some friends in the east.”
“Could you? That would be wonderful, Judge. I shall tell Abigail when next I see her.”
“Nicholas,” he said.
“What?”
“My name is Nicholas. No one calls me that, but I would appreciate it if you did. It makes me feel as if I were a man instead of just a judge.” He realized that might sound as if he was fishing for a compliment and quickly continued. “Does the house need considerable work?”
“A great deal, I am afraid, but my brother loves nothing better than to build things.”
At a fork in the road, he motioned for her to take the one on her side. “That much I do know about him. I often went to see how Marblestone was coming along as he was building it.”
“Did you?”
“Tell me, have you seen the hidden room?”
McKenna giggled. “The secret hidden room? Aye, he showed me.”
“Why did he build it?”
“He said it was in case the Indians were not as happy on the Reservation as the government claims.”
Nicholas laughed. “I took a guess at the reason, but that was not it.”
“What did you think it was for?”
“To hide from thieves. He is a very wealthy man, with good reason to fear being robbed.”
“I suppose so, though I never really considered it.”
“You’ll not lose sleep now that I pointed it out, will you?”
“I might.” She smiled to relieve his concern. “Hannish does love surrounding himself with valuable things.”
“And beautiful women. The Sheriff had his eye on the redheaded one…what is her name?”
“Millie.”
“Ah yes, Millie. She is married now, much to Sheriff Thompson’s chagrin. Now he sees Lillian. I believe Lillian worked for your brother for a time.”
McKenna found it easy to talk to him, now that capturing the black stallion was no longer an issue. “She did, but she was not well liked and the others were glad when she quit us.”
He hesitated for a moment and then said, “I am hoping to marry one of MacGreagor’s beautiful women, if she will have me.” He said it finally and held his breath.
McKenna looked away. “Which one? Jessie might do, though she be some older than you. As you know, she is an excellent cook.”
“I already have a cook. You let me have Doreen, remember?”
“I remember.”
“McKenna, you are avoiding the question.”
“What question?”
He took a forgotten breath. “Will you marry me?”
She wrinkled her brow. “How very odd. I loved a lad in Scotland who said he loved me, but did not ask to marry me. You ask to marry me and do not say you love me.”
He halted his horse, closed his eyes and bowed his head. “You must think I am feebleminded. I practiced what to say all the way up the hill, and meant to say it, but…”
“You forgot?”
“I must have. Forgive me, I have never asked anyone to marry me before.”
“At least that much is comforting.” She guided her horse around him and continued up the road. “How is Doreen?”
Her question caught him off guard. He feared his opportunity was lost again and urged his horse to catch up. “You must come visit her. She is a good housekeeper, and can make toast just the way I like it. I believe she misses seeing all of you.”
“Then she must come visit whenever she can.”
“I will tell her. McKenna, what can I do to prove that I love you?”
“You barely know me.”
“No, it is you who barely knows me. I have watched you from afar many times. I know you are kind, friendly and that you love children. I have seen you give them penny candy on the streets.”
“You have watched me? I do not take kindly to being watched.”
Judge Mitchel rolled his eyes and halted his horse again. “How much dirt will it take to outright bury me?”
At last, McKenna giggled, pulled on her reins and twisted in her saddle to look back at him. “You do seem to be digging yourself in deeper.”
“Help me, tell me what to do?”
“Let you start over?”
“Please, I beg of you.”
“Very well then.” Again, she started to walk her horse up the hill.
Again, he hurried to catch up. “I do love you…very much, in fact. I have since the day I watched you try on hats across the street from my office.”
“You watch me from your office. Go on.”
“Well, I not only love you, I admire you. You have courage.”
“And what else?”
He looked into her eyes. “Am I being taunted?” he asked finally.
“Of course you are, ‘tis an old family tradition. A lass in our clan must first let a lad know she will not put up with nonsense.”
“I appreciate the warning. Now will you marry me?” When she didn’t answer, he took a long, deep breath. “What else should I be saying?”
“You have not asked how I feel.”
Once more, he rolled his eyes. “I knew I was forgetting something. “How do you feel?”
“Very well, thank you.�
�� She giggled and sped off on her horse. “Where will we live?” she shouted.
“Come back here and I will tell you.”
She hadn’t had this much fun in a long time, turned around and pulled her horse up next to his, until they were face to face. “Where then?”
“In my house,” he answered.
“Good, and will we have lots of children?”
“As many as you like. Are you saying yes?”
“I am, but I am not saying I love you as much as I will once I know you better. Yet, I am fond of you and find you very pleasing. You must come to the house often.”
“As often as I am able.” He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “We are almost to Manitou Springs. Shall we have dinner there?” He was thrilled when she nodded, let go of her hand and waited until she turned her horse around again.
They were just cresting a hill overlooking the small town of Manitou Springs, when everything went wrong. He vowed he wouldn’t ask, but he did not heed his own caution. “McKenna, what happened to the duchess?”
She abruptly halted her horse and stared at him. “Do you ask for you or for the sheriff?”
“You must admit, the circumstances of your brother’s second marriage are…” Before he could finish, she turned her horse around, kicked his haunches and sped away. “McKenna!” he shouted. It was no use, she was gone. He bowed his head and closed his eyes. For a judge, he was not a very wise man.
*
McKenna was crying by the time Alistair lifted her down off her horse and held her in his arms. “What is it, Miss McKenna?”
“They are all the same,” she moaned.
“Who?”
She was so upset, she pulled away, hurried inside and ran up the marble staircase to her room. She flung open the door, pulled off her hat and collapsed across the bed. A few minutes later, Hannish knocked on the door and did not wait before he opened it.
His eyes were fierce when he asked, “Did he hurt you?”
She was surprised by his question, quickly sat up and said, “Nay.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“Because…because he wanted to know what happened to the duchess. He asked me to marry him, but twas only to…to…”
“He asked you to marry him?”
“Aye.”
Hannish sat on the bed beside her, “What did you say?”
Marblestone Mansion, Book 2 Page 19