Nate's Destiny
Page 16
Sam settled back in his chair, waiting until they disappeared down the stairs. “Well, I’ll be.”
Brodie nodded. “Aye.”
“Did you have any idea Kyla had an interest in him?”
“Not a one. Although, if I think on it, there were times they spent several minutes alone when he’d come to Sunday supper. After Angus, I never thought she’d be interested in another man.”
“You know, Brodie, Kyla isn’t an old woman. She’s still beautiful.”
“Aye, she is. It’s just…I’ve not thought of her having an interest in another relationship. It will be taking some getting used to.”
“I can just imagine what Colin and Camden will think. It might be a good thing Blaine is already gone.”
Brodie chuckled. “Aye. It might be.”
“All right, gentlemen.” August shut the door behind him, taking a seat at the table. “What brings you to my office?”
“That cannot be. She’d never associate with a man like Black Jolly. She must be receiving letters from someone else in Settlers Valley. Maybe even Heather or Geneen.”
Brodie shook his head. “Nae. I doubt either of the lasses would have a reason to write her, especially Heather.”
August scrubbed a hand down his face, nodding. “No, probably not. What do you plan to do?”
Brodie glanced out the window, staring at the large, billowing clouds moving south, then looked at August. “Ira will deliver the mail to the boardinghouse tonight. He’ll stop by the jail on his way. I plan to go with him.”
“Do you plan to speak with her?”
“Aye. There’s no other way to discover who the letter is from.”
Rubbing his jaw, August nodded. “I should go with you.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, sir.” Sam looked between Brodie and August. “In my experience, it would be best for Brodie to go alone. You might want to be close by, maybe down at the Gold Dust. I’ll wait on the boardwalk and alert you if there’s any trouble.”
“Surely she wouldn’t cause a ruckus,” August gasped.
Sam shook his head, leaning forward. “If it is the woman we seek and she’s associated with Black, there’s no telling what she might do. I’ll be a few steps down the street and you’ll be close by.”
August looked at Brodie. “What do you think?”
“I agree with Sam. If there’s no connection, it’s best she not think you’re aware of me checking on her. She’s a nice lass and hasn’t been in town long. We don’t want to make settling in more difficult for her.”
“Then I’ll come to the jail and wait with you for Ira. I certainly hope you’re wrong and his connection in Conviction isn’t her.”
“Aye. So do I.”
Brodie pulled his pocket watch out and checked the time, glancing across the desk at Sam and August. “Ira should be here any time now.”
A few minutes later, the door opened, Ira stepping inside. “I’m heading to the boardinghouse, Sheriff.” He nodded at August and Sam.
“We’re ready.”
Ira’s eyes widened. “You aren’t all going, are you?”
August took a couple steps toward him. “If you have no objection.”
Shaking his head, Ira stuttered. “Uh, no, Mr. Fielder. No objection from me.”
Grabbing their hats, they followed Ira outside, crossed the street, and headed toward the boardinghouse. August slipped into the Gold Dust while Sam continued a bit farther before taking a seat in an empty chair. Brodie continued with Ira, stopping outside the boardinghouse.
“You sure about this, Sheriff?”
Brodie nodded. “You go on inside and deliver the mail, then head home. I’ll wait until she comes down to collect her mail before I go inside.”
Relief flooded Ira’s face. “I don’t want to get in any trouble for sharing the information with you.”
“No one’s going to be reporting you, Ira. All you did was tell me a letter arrived from Settlers Valley. Neither of us opened it, so I don’t see how you’d get in trouble.”
“If you say so.” Stepping inside, Ira closed the door. “Mrs. Baker,” he called toward the back. “I’ve got the mail.”
Shuffling out from the kitchen, the elderly woman came toward him. “Good evening, Mr. Greene.” She took the mail from his hand, looking through it.
“You’ve got a letter from your daughter, ma’am.”
“Yes, I see that. And there’s one from my brother.” Ignoring the last letter, she looked up. “Thank you for bringing it by. You know, I can walk down the street and pick it up.”
“Well now, Mrs. Baker, I’ve been doing this since before your husband passed. It’s on my way home and no bother at all.”
“Someday, you and the missus should come by and have supper with us. I’d love the company.”
“I appreciate the offer. I’ll let the missus know.” Touching a finger to the brim of his hat, he nodded. “Well, I’ll be on my way now.”
“See you next time, Mr. Greene.” Holding the mail, she returned to the kitchen.
Stepping outside, Ira looked at Brodie. “I’ll be heading home now, Sheriff.”
“Thanks, Ira. I appreciate your help.”
Brodie leaned against the outside wall of the building, glancing through the front window every few minutes. A good thirty minutes went by before Mrs. Baker walked back out, carrying plates of food to the large dining room table. When she’d brought out everything, she moved to the bottom of the stairs and rang the bell.
Several men and a couple young women came down, each greeting her before heading to their places at the table. Brodie recognized a few, but not all. The woman he wanted to talk to came down last, stopping when Mrs. Baker held out the letter.
When the older woman joined her guests at the table, the young boarder stayed behind, walking into the parlor and tearing open the letter. As she read, her face contorted, taking on a pained expression. Brodie knew he’d never get a better chance than now. Opening the door, he moved toward her.
“Good evening, Miss Harris.”
Miranda jumped, turning to face Brodie, a hand at her throat. “Oh, Sheriff. You startled me.”
“Apologies, ma’am. Appears you received a letter.”
The young schoolteacher looked down, her hands shaking. “Yes.”
“From your parents?”
“Um, no.”
Brodie watched fear show in her eyes, her breath coming in short bursts. “When I walked inside, you didn’t look too well. Hope it isn’t bad news.”
Her bottom lip trembled, her face losing most of its color. “It’s, well…it’s not good news.” She held the letter to her chest.
“Bad news is never good. You know, I’ve got relatives up in Settlers Valley. Have you heard of it?”
She shot Brodie a startled look, eyes wide with panic. “Why, yes. It’s north of here, isn’t it?”
“I’m thinking you already know where it is. Don’t you, Miss Harris?”
Closing her eyes, Miranda shook her head slowly. Glancing down at the letter, her body began to shake so much she wrapped her arms around her waist, lowering herself onto the sofa. Rocking back and forth, a small keening sound slipped from her lips.
“I don’t know what to do.” Her words came out on a quiet sob. The letter in her lap, she placed her hands over her face and wept.
Sitting at the other end of the sofa, Brodie shifted toward her, seeing Sam through the front window. “Are you all right, lass?”
Continuing to rock back and forth, Miranda shook her head. “No, I don’t think I am.”
“May I see the letter?”
Dropping her hands from her face, she looked at him. The misery Brodie saw ripped through him. Whatever was in the letter, whatever Miranda knew, couldn’t be good.
“Miss Harris?”
Glancing at the letter in her lap, she swiped tears off her face. Picking it up, her hands shook as she held it out to Brodie. “He isn’t like this.”
“Is this from Black Jolly?”
Nodding, she hiccupped on another sob.
“Is he your husband?”
She continued to stare at her lap, shaking her head.
“Lover?”
Her gaze whipped up to meet his, her face full of shock. “No.”
“Then who is he?”
Catching her bottom lip in her teeth, she looked away.
“Miss Harris, this letter is from someone who intends to break the law, maybe even kill people in the process. I believe he’s the same man who attacked my family’s ranch. He took the time to write you a letter, and I’m guessing it’s not the first. Please answer me, lass. Who is he to you?”
Closing her eyes, Miranda tightened her arms around her waist, rocking back and forth once more.
“Miranda. Please, answer me.”
Opening eyes filled with misery, she opened her mouth, then closed it. Sucking in a slow breath, Miranda’s gaze met his.
“He’s my brother.”
Chapter Eighteen
Settlers Valley
Josiah Lloyd scribbled the message from Sheriff MacLaren as it came across the wire. He’d barely put his hat on a hook when the notification sounded. Sighing, Josiah took a seat, never imagining the importance of this particular telegram until he wrote it out. Stomach churning, he folded the message, stuffed it into a pocket, and dashed outside toward Dahlia’s boardinghouse, shoving the door open and hurrying inside.
“Mrs. Keach, are you here?” Josiah’s frantic gaze took in the empty dining room.
“Josiah Lloyd, what on earth are you shouting about?”
“Is Mr. Dye in his room?”
Crossing her arms, she shook her head. “He ate his breakfast and took off without a word. I’ve never seen a man in such a rush as Mr. Dye.”
Biting the inside of his cheek, Josiah considered what to do next. “It’s important I find him. Do you know where he went?”
“No, sir, I don’t. I don’t make it a habit to nose into the affairs of my guests.”
Josiah would’ve laughed if he didn’t know the contents of the telegram. The entire town knew Dahlia Keach lived for gossip.
“Have you seen Sheriff Polk this morning?” Josiah looked out the front window, concern lodging in his chest.
“Pfft. That man is as worthless as a tick. I doubt he’s even out of bed yet. You know, now that I think on it, Mr. Dye does spend time at the Lucky Lady with Marcus Kamm’s helper.” Dahlia pursed her lips. “Oh, what is his name?”
“Nate Hollis?”
“Why, yes. That’s the man. You might try the livery to see if he knows where Mr. Dye is.”
“I’ll do that, Mrs. Keach. If you see Mr. Dye, please tell him I have a telegram for him.”
Josiah hurried along the boardwalk, coming to a stop when he saw the doors of the blacksmith shop closed and chained. Moving to the livery in back, he peered over the fence, seeing no activity. He rubbed his forehead, confounded on what to do next.
Reaching into his pocket, he removed the message, reading it once more. As urgent as it seemed, he’d done all he could. He thought of rousing the sheriff, but dismissed the idea with a quick shake of his head. As Dahlia implied, the man wouldn’t give a whit about what another sheriff warned. He’d most likely crumple up the paper and toss it into the stove.
Looking up and down the street once more, Josiah slipped the message back into his pocket. Delivery would have to wait until Colt showed up.
Highlander Ranch
Geneen and Heather worked well as a team, rounding up strays, merging them with the main herd. They stayed alert for any danger, their movements fluid as they performed the chores both understood well. This morning, their minds were elsewhere.
Rounding up three more head from an obscure gulch, Geneen reined up Gypsy. Heather sat atop Shamrock no more than five yards away, her gaze fixed on the western hills—the direction of the mine. Looking up, Geneen gauged the time to be after nine.
“The lads will be in position now.”
Geneen’s throat constricted on Heather’s words. “Yes, I suppose so.” Her grip tightened on the reins.
“I’ll not know a moment’s peace until Caleb and the others are back.”
“They’ll be coming home, Heather. They’ve been through this before. We all have. Today isn’t a day for them to die.” Geneen wished she felt as confident as her words indicated. She’d slept little, her mind on Nate and their shared time in his room.
She wished he’d allowed her to stay the night, but it wasn’t to be. His sense of propriety and respect for her wouldn’t allow it, and Geneen couldn’t fault him for it. They had a lot of mending to do, and she meant to do her best to see them succeed.
“Caleb and I plan a quick trip to Conviction in a few weeks.”
Geneen realized she’d been lost in her own thoughts, not noticing Heather move to within a few feet of her. “Do you mean to Circle M?”
“Nae. Not until we see Doc Tilden.”
Geneen’s features shifted to alarm. “Are you or Caleb ill?”
“Nae. Well, I’ve not been feeling sick. At least not yet.” Heather rested a hand on her stomach.
Her eyes widening, Geneen’s mouth gaped open. “You’re with child?”
Grinning, Heather nodded. “Aye. At least the signs are there, the same as they were with Sarah. I told Caleb there’s no reason to make the trip to Conviction since we’ll be moving the cattle in a few months.” She looked down at her still flat stomach. “You know how the lad is. He’s saying we can’t wait that long to see a doctor.”
“Women do it all the time.”
“Aye, they do. And most out this way never see a doctor. Caleb doesn’t care what most women do. He’s determined to have Doc Tilden examine me. I’m thinking what he truly wants is to talk the doctor into moving to Settlers Valley. I’ve told him the lad won’t be moving when he’s only been in Conviction a short time.”
Geneen shook her head. “Probably not, but he may know of someone looking for a place out here.”
“Aye, I’m hoping that’s true. So, what I’m really wanting to ask is if you’d be all right watching the ranch while we’re gone? Caleb’s thinking we’ll be gone three days. The family will be having fits if we don’t stay at Circle M at least one night.”
“Visit with them as long as you want, Heather. I’ll be fine here. Besides, Blaine said it should take less than four days for him and Bay to visit the properties. He’ll be here to help out.”
“And Nate.”
Biting her lower lip, Geneen nodded. “Maybe. He’s got his job in town, but I’m certain he’ll do what he can.”
“I saw you and the lad before he left with Caleb, Blaine, and Bay. Seems you’ve been making progress.”
Geneen felt her face flush at the reminder of how Nate kissed her before leaving. The intimacy in front of the family and Bay surprised her.
She shrugged, not willing to rely too much on what had been said the night before. “We’ve agreed to try again.”
“That’s good news, lass. I’ve not had a chance to tell you, but the lad’s been doing better. He’s much like the man he was before the opium took control.” Heather grimaced. “It’s a nasty business. I’m hopeful it will be staying out of Settlers Valley.”
Geneen hoped so as well.
A fierce wind blew as the miners loaded the wagon. Colt tugged on the collar of his coat, keeping his gaze locked on Black, who sat atop his large stallion, looking bored with the activities. Something about the way his eyes flickered told Colt the man wasn’t as relaxed as he appeared.
The same driver as always sat on the bench, lines secured beside him. The other guard, an average looking, slightly overweight younger man, smoked a cheroot a few feet from Colt. He seemed a good sort,
jovial and easy-going. Colt knew looks could be misleading.
Before the first load, Colt and Nate discussed the best place to attack the wagon, deciding the middle of the route seemed best. The trail veered away from the Feather River through thick trees, dense shrub, and thick rock formations. After less than half a mile, the trail changed, moving through open land within yards of the river. It offered everything an outlaw would want, including side trails going east. Easy escapes from the main road.
Shifting in the saddle, Colt stared down the trail. By now, Nate and the others would be in position, their guns ready. If Black made his move today, Colt had no doubt who would come out on top.
Nate huddled down in the usual spot, his back pressed against a large rock. Caleb hid across the trail, while Blaine took a position several yards south. Marcus and Bay preferred to be north of the others, with clear views of the trail as it turned into the dense growth.
A bird call Nate had heard many times wafted across the trail, forcing a smile. Caleb and Blaine were communicating. Back in their homeland of Scotland, the MacLarens had devised an uncomplicated, yet effective way of sending messages. Their great-grandfathers had passed it to the sons, and so it went until all the men and women at Circle M knew what each sound meant.
Geneen spent countless hours teaching Nate, laughing as he tried to mimic her and the others. Over time, his skills improved enough he recognized Blaine and Caleb communicating about the open trail to the south. He immediately recognized their mistake. They should’ve taken positions to the north, where Bay and Marcus waited.
Shaking his head, Nate snorted. “Hindsight,” he mumbled to himself as he drew his six-shooter from its holster, checking the cylinder one more time. Alongside him lay his rifle. It had taken a long time to adjust to bracing it on his left shoulder instead of his right. He’d persevered, determined not to let the loss of the lower half of his left arm stop him from a normal life. He now felt as proficient with the weapon as he had before the war.
Pulling out his pocket watch, Nate checked the time. All his instincts told him Black would go for the gold today. By tonight, the outlaw would be in jail or dead.