Sam nodded. “Doc Vickery. He couldn’t find evidence whatever she bought killed her. Doc’s seen her a couple times since she and her husband arrived by steamship a month ago. He told me her heart was failing. She didn’t have long to live. Probably why she sought out something that might help.”
“Aye, it probably is. Her husband is grieving, directing his anger at those he believes are responsible.”
“August Fielder arrived before I left. He thinks the crowd will disperse after they’ve had a chance to voice their anger.”
“What do you think, Sam?”
Rubbing his chin, he pursed his lips. “I’m not certain. That’s why I left Jack and Seth to make sure no violence broke out.”
“Where’s Alex?”
“He rode out this morning to check on a report of missing cattle. I doubt he’ll be gone long.” Sam looked over his shoulder when the door opened, seeing Seth walking in. Removing his hat, he took a seat next to Sam.
“What of the crowd?” Brodie asked.
“Doc Vickery showed up and took the husband aside. It didn’t take long for people to leave.” Seth stretched out his long legs, crossing his arms. “Jack’s getting breakfast at the Gold Dust. Is there anything you need me to do, Sheriff?”
“Be at the docks when the steamship comes in today.” Brodie debated whether or not to say anything about Nate in front of Seth. They’d never met, so he doubted Seth would care one way or another what happened to the man. Seth made the decision for him. Standing, he settled the hat on his head.
“Guess I’ll join Jack at the Gold Dust before heading to the docks.”
When the door closed, Brodie picked up the letter, sliding it across the desk to Sam. “Read it.”
Sam’s eyes widened as he read what Caleb wrote. “I’ll be. Nate’s been a few hours up the river all this time and never let anyone know. Son of a…” He didn’t finish, shaking his head as he passed the letter back to Brodie. “Must have been quite a shock for Geneen.”
“Aye, it must’ve. I’m thinking of riding up there to talk to Nate. Maybe there’s something I can do to get him back here.”
“Caleb says Nate told him he picked Settlers Valley because opium isn’t available like it is here. You know we can’t control the stuff. As hard as it is to say, maybe it’s best he not come back to Conviction.”
Standing, Brodie paced to the window, looking out at a street already crowded with wagons and horses. “You may be right. I hate to think of the lad hiding out when there might be something more we can do.”
“He’s got Caleb, Heather, and Geneen close by. And Caleb mentioned trying to talk him into living at the ranch. Being closer to friends might be all he needs right now.”
“Aye, you’re probably right.”
“You’re needed here, Brodie. I know it’s just a few hours away, but if anyone should go, it’s me. With Maggie pregnant, you don’t want to be too far away.”
“The lass isn’t due for a while yet, Sam.”
Joining him at the window, Sam clasped a hand on Brodie’s shoulder. “Reply to Caleb. Let him know one of us can ride up there if he thinks it’s needed. Nate left because he felt he had to. Whatever he’s doing seems to be working.”
Brodie turned toward him. “He’s a good lawman working in a livery.”
Sam chuckled at the thought. “It’s honest work.”
“Aye, it is.”
“I’d best start my rounds. Jinny expects me to be home for dinner.” Sam patted his stomach. “She’s a real good cook.”
“Of course she is. Our mother taught her well.”
Brodie watched Sam walk out, still unsettled by the news about Nate. He told himself Sam was right. His friend was doing what he thought best. It wasn’t Brodie’s place to try to convince him otherwise.
Returning to his desk, he penned a short letter to Caleb.
Settlers Valley
Black sat at a table in the Lucky Lady, his back to the wall, as far away from the entry as possible. It might not be the best day to find men willing to ride with him, but he couldn’t wait any longer. The load from the Acorn would be transported to town next week. It could be as long as three weeks before the next shipment, too long for Black to wait.
“The bartender said you’re looking for men.” A man of average height stood across the table, his expression sullen, hands twitching at his sides. “What kind of work do you have?”
Black’s expression didn’t change as he studied the man. He could afford to be a little picky, but not much. “You good with a gun?”
The man lifted a brow, nodding. “Good as the next.”
“Are you willing to use it?”
The man’s gaze narrowed. “On what?”
“Other men.”
“I’m no killer. Just looking for work.”
“Then I think you’d best keep looking.” Black looked down at his whiskey, dismissing the man. One man had already been hired. He only needed one more.
He’d spent two days forming his plan before riding back to the mining camp, requesting a meeting with Nettles. At first, he’d been rebuffed. When he mentioned word was out about when the next shipments would be made, he’d been ushered inside.
Black used his time wisely, explaining the dangers of moving gold from place to place. The mine had been lucky so far. Black hinted the killing of the guard could’ve been by the Indian boy, or it could’ve been by someone else—men not averse to robbing from their employers. Black provided a list of people he’d worked for, impressing Nettles. The outcome was always the same. He’d offer up the names of prominent people he didn’t know, but seldom did anyone take the time to check his association with those on the list. It amazed him how the right name could open doors anywhere.
It hadn’t taken too much persuading for Nettles to hire him to guard the shipments. Black’s only request was that he use his own men. Nettles had agreed, asking few questions.
Being an employee of the mine gave him access to a good deal of information, and kept the sheriff away. As someone taking money from Nettles, Polk had little reason to question Black, looking away while he conducted his interviews at the Lucky Lady. If any of the men he didn’t hire went to Polk, the sheriff would brush their comments aside, thinking Black was hiring guards. Men who wouldn’t care about shooting a man if he tried to steal the contents in the wagon. Black had it all covered.
“Bartender says you’re hiring.”
Black glanced up. It had become a familiar comment the last two nights. This time, Black’s brow lifted in interest. The man had a promising look about him.
“Have a seat.” He slid an empty glass and bottle of whiskey toward the man, who didn’t hesitate to accept. Leaning back in the chair, he waited until the man poured a drink and tossed it back.
“What kind of work are you offering?”
“Depends. Do you have any objections to shooting a man?”
He shook his head. “Not if it needs to be done.”
Black studied him another moment, then leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.
“I need guards for a shipment from a local mine to town.”
Shrugging, the man cocked his head. “Seems easy enough. When?”
“Next week. I’ll let you know the day before I need you. Where are you staying?”
“At the boardinghouse. I got the last of her three rooms.” Standing, the man offered his hand. “Colt Dye.”
“Black Jolly.”
Colt nodded. “I’ll wait to hear from you.” Strolling out of the saloon, he took one quick glance over his shoulder at Jolly before heading down the boardwalk.
Sitting down, Black poured another drink. He had his two men. If all went well, late next week he’d be several hundred miles away and a good deal richer.
Colt settled himself into a seat at the boardinghouse supper table, eyeing the other two renters. They’d been introduced as a traveling salesman and a young man who described himself as a fledgling photographer
.
“And what do you do, Mr. Dye?” Dahlia Keach, the matronly widow who owned the establishment, sipped her tea, glancing over the rim as she waited for his answer.
Colt set down his cup, threading his fingers together in his lap. “I’ve done many things, Mrs. Keach.”
“Well then, what is your most recent line of work?”
He knew the woman would continue asking until he answered.
“I worked for a group of ranchers in Texas as an investigator.” It might not be the complete truth, but it wasn’t a lie.
Her eyes lit up. “How interesting. My late husband did some investigation work when we lived in Chicago…after he retired from the police force. He quite enjoyed it. In fact…”
Colt let out a breath, pleased he’d been able to turn the conversation over to Mrs. Keach. He thought of his meeting with Black, nodding every few moments as the woman droned on about life in Chicago and her late husband. When she stood to get dessert, he thanked her for supper and excused himself, making his way to his upstairs room.
His gun sat on the table where he left it. He felt naked without it, but the woman insisted no weapons were allowed at the table. Colt stripped out of his clothes, splashed water on his face, then stretched out on the bed. Resting his arms behind his head, he thought of Black Jolly.
As a U.S. Marshal, Colt had been given the task of locating the outlaw and bringing him back to Texas for trial. It had been a long search. Colt had followed the trail to Conviction, met with the sheriff, and learned of Black’s actions against the MacLarens, including his subsequent retreat from the area.
While speaking with Brodie over breakfast, a young woman passed by their table, taking a seat with an older gentleman not far from them. Something about her appearance caught his attention. It wasn’t the color of her hair or eyes that had him staring, but the way she tilted her head, her gestures. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he’d met her before, or someone much like her. The thought plagued him until he’d ridden north the following day, taking a chance Jolly might still be in the area. His hunch paid off.
Colt had been surprised Black didn’t recognize him from the posse trailing him across Texas for several days. They’d been close several times. Close enough to look each other in the eyes. He doubted the outlaw knew his name, but thought he might recognize his face.
Of course, when Colt looked in the mirror, he sometimes didn’t recognize himself, either. His clean-shaven face hid behind a week’s worth of growth, and his dark hair had grown out until it almost touched his shoulders. Tonight, he’d held it in place with a strip of leather, something he would’ve laughed about a few months ago.
He’d entered the Lucky Lady for enough whiskey to wash down the trail dust. While leaning against the bar, his gaze had landed on Jolly. He’d almost choked on his drink. Biding his time, Colt struck up a conversation with the bartender, which led to him walking over to the outlaw’s table. He could arrest him now and be done with it, but a part of him wanted to see what Jolly planned. Whatever it was, it would most certainly be against the law.
Highlander Ranch
“I don’t recall ever having a venison roast as perfect as this one, Geneen.” Caleb looked at what was left of the meat, debating whether to fork another piece onto his plate.
“I agree, lass. You’ll have to be teaching me how to make it.” Heather finished her last bite, pushing her plate away. “Although I’ll never be as good a cook as you.”
“All you need is practice.”
Geneen glanced across the table at Nate. He’d yet to say a word about the meal or his day in town. In fact, he’d barely acknowledged her, his features showing none of the warmth and flirtation of the night before when his dark gaze had sent ripples of desire through her.
“What would you be thinking of the meal, Nate?”
He looked up at Heather’s question, his gaze moving to Geneen. “It’s very good.”
Heather glanced at Geneen, then back at Nate. “Are you feeling all right, lad?”
“I’m fine.” He absently rubbed his left arm, unaware how they all took notice. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to head over to Archie’s and bunk down early.” Pushing from the table, he didn’t bother to pick up his plate. Instead, he left the room and walked out the front door, not making eye contact with any of them.
“Maybe I should go see if he’s all right.” Geneen didn’t wait for Caleb or Heather to comment before following him outside. “Nate.” When he continued toward the foreman’s house, she tried again. “Nate, wait.”
Stopping, he turned around, his eyes distant and features menacing. “What is it, Geneen?”
His cold manner had her halting a few feet away, crossing her arms over her stomach. “I was worried about you. Are you certain you’re feeling all right?”
Glaring at her, he nodded. “I told Heather I was, so yes, I’m fine.”
His harsh words had her taking a faltering step away.
“Is there something else?” The hard tone of his voice had her flinching.
Her chest squeezed as she tightened her arms around her waist. “No. There’s nothing else. I’m sorry to have bothered you.” Turning, she hurried to the house, ignoring him when he called her name.
Nate hated watching her leave. He’d hurt her again without meaning to, but he had a sudden urge to get away, a persistent voice in his head pushing him to seek solace in the one thing that could destroy him.
He’d left the opium behind in Conviction and had no intention of ever using again. Unfortunately, his mind refused to accept the fact his body no longer needed the drug. Shaking his head in disgust, Nate continued on to the foreman’s house. He needed whiskey and time alone.
The thought stopped him in his tracks. Both Doc Tilden and the doctor in San Francisco had told him when the urge arose not to seek relief in alcohol or be alone. They’d counseled him to spend time with family and friends, not allowing the desire to control him.
Shoving his right hand into a pocket, he lowered his head, letting out a deep breath. He fought the dueling messages in his brain. One told him to deaden his senses with whiskey, the other to turn around, go back inside and apologize. Neither appealed to him.
Deciding a third choice existed, Nate stalked to the corral beside the barn, whistling for Nomad. Ten minutes later, he headed out, unsure of his destination and not caring where he ended up.
Chapter Nine
Geneen couldn’t sleep after hearing Nate ride off. Sitting by the window, wrapped up in a warm quilt, she’d stared outside, willing him to return. He didn’t. Not that night or the next. When he didn’t appear at breakfast the second morning in a row, she saddled Gypsy.
“Are you going to town, lass?”
Nodding, Geneen tightened the cinch around her horse’s belly. “He may not want to see me, and that’s fine. I just need to know he’s all right before I leave.”
Heather stepped next to her. “What are you saying?”
Geneen gripped the saddle horn with both hands, resting her forehead against the saddle. “I’ve decided to go back to Circle M for a while. Spend Christmas with the family.”
“And get away from Nate.”
Lifting her head, Geneen didn’t try to hide the hurt she felt. “It’s too hard seeing him struggle and not being able to help. I know I pushed him away, but I never gave up, not the way he has with me. I’m not strong enough to keep doing this with him.”
Heather’s brows furrowed. “Doing what, lass?”
“Pretending I don’t care when I still love him as much as ever. How many times do you let a man ride away, allow him to break your heart?”
“I’ve no answer for you. It’s a decision you’ll need to be making for yourself. I do know we’ll miss you being here. Won’t you consider staying until after Christmas? Caleb and I will take a few days and go back with you. I know he won’t be letting you ride back alone.”
Geneen looked away, feeling guilty for what she had pl
anned. “I thought to send a message to Brodie, asking if one of his deputies could accompany me back.”
“Seems you’ve been thinking a lot on this.”
Leaning against the stall, Geneen stared out the front of the barn, watching as two birds circled around each other above the house. They seemed so carefree and happy. She wanted to feel the same, yet didn’t know how to get there.
“Since the hunt. He wanted to talk, but I pushed him away. I wasn’t ready.”
Heather rested a shoulder against the stall, watching her. “And now you are?”
“No. Not yet. That’s why I want to go back to Circle M. I no longer know what I want.” She turned to face Heather. “I hate leaving you and Caleb without more help.”
Pushing away from the stall, Heather shook her head. “If you’re set on going, send the telegram, but to Uncle Ewan, not Brodie. Ewan will send someone to get you without Brodie losing a deputy. Caleb and I will find someone to work for us while you’re gone.”
“What if I don’t come back?”
“Then it will be because you’ve found your answer, lass, the same way I found mine about Caleb. No one can be doing it for you.” Walking over to Gypsy, Heather picked up the reins, handing them to Geneen. “Now, off with you. The sooner you ride to town, the sooner you’ll know what you’ll be doing.”
Kissing Heather’s cheek, she mounted, reining Gypsy toward town. She’d dreaded the conversation with a woman she thought of as another sister. Now she felt a little better. Geneen had choices to make, and Heather wasn’t going to try to dissuade her from them.
Riding toward Settlers Valley, she thought of Nate, wondering if he’d even agree to see her. There wasn’t much she wanted to say, if anything. Once she determined he was all right, she’d send a telegram to Ewan and wait for his reply. She didn’t see a reason to inform Nate. Caleb and Heather would tell him when he decided to return to the ranch. He might even decide to come back sooner once he learned she’d be leaving.
They’d both be free to do whatever they wanted and ignore the pain they’d caused each other. The thought gave her less comfort than she expected.
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