“You be sure he gets it, Deputy.”
Sam gave a solemn nod, indicating the importance of his task. “I will.”
“I gotta get back to the office. Some foulmouthed stranger needs to get a telegram off right away.”
Waiting until Ira closed the door behind him, he opened the telegram, scanning it quickly. Ira was right. This was important. It came from Nate Hollis, the sheriff in Settlers Valley and Brodie’s former deputy. He’d also married Geneen MacGregor, Sarah MacLaren’s sister, making him part of the family.
Standing, he slammed his hat on his head, reaching for the door when it flew open, almost hitting Sam in the face. “Good. I was coming to get you.”
Brodie walked inside, Colt right behind him. “Good morning, lad.” The sheriff lifted his hat, setting it on a hook.
Sam held out the telegram. “It may not be once you read this.”
Brows furrowing, he took it, the frown deepening by the time he finished. He handed the message to Colt, who murmured a curse.
“Where’s Seth?” Brodie asked.
“He rode out to relieve Alex. Jack is making rounds.”
Brodie’s jaw clenched. “Have Jack ride out to stop Alex from coming back. We’ll be needing all three deputies at the Smith place.”
Sam nodded, moving to the door. “Do you think the gang who robbed the stage near Settlers Valley is Delgado and his men?”
Colt answered. “Sounds like it. If so, I’d expect him to head directly to his sister’s. I’ll ride out with Jack. It’d be best, Brodie, if you stayed in town with Sam, just in case Delgado shows up here, or Ev Hunt pokes his head out from wherever he’s hiding.”
Rubbing his chin, Brodie read the telegram again. “Aye, you’re right, lad. Sam, you and I’ll be making rounds today. With luck, Delgado will ride straight to Maria’s and we’ll have one of the two outlaws Colt seeks dead or locked up real soon.”
“I want this sent right away.” Ev shoved the handwritten message to Ira.
Nodding, he read through it, then began to tap. A minute later, he looked up at the man and quoted a price.
Tossing coins on the counter, Ev’s hard gaze held Ira’s. “I’m at the hotel next to the newspaper. I expect you to get the reply to me as soon as it comes in.”
Stepping outside, he looked around, a feral grin tilting the corners of his mouth. Last night had been fortuitous. He’d been on his way to Buckie’s for a few hours of cards when he spotted Bay, Miss Gasnier, the sheriff, his wife, and another couple at a table inside the café.
Ev had waited until they left, following Bay and Miss Gasnier to her house. Satisfaction had rippled through him when he’d seen Bay grip his head with both hands, almost stumbling down the last few steps.
A minute later, he’d dropped his hands. Ev had heard the woman suggest they go to the clinic, which Bay refused. They’d spoken a little longer before he turned and walked to his house.
Ev didn’t need further confirmation of Bay’s condition. He’d never doubted his work the last few weeks would be effective. However, it had taken longer than anticipated.
Enjoying another rush of gratification, Ev continued down the boardwalk toward the Gold Dust. His stomach rumbled at the thought of food. Still, he couldn’t keep the smile from his face.
It was time.
Bay studied the whiskey decanter in his hand. Holding it up to the light streaming through the window, he tilted the container one way, then another, hoping to spot something. To his disgust, he saw no particles, nothing to indicate anyone had tampered with the whiskey.
Setting down the decanter, he walked to the cabinet in his office to retrieve the open bottle of whiskey, surprised to see a second bottle next to it. Picking both up, he studied the liquid inside, lifting each to look at the sediment. Nothing appeared to be amiss with either. The cork of the almost empty bottle was a little askew, easy to pull out. The full bottle’s cork fit snugly, as he’d expect. He didn’t remember buying either one, the same as he didn’t recall filling the decanter at home.
Grabbing the decanter, he took all three across the hall into August’s office. His partner glanced up from a stack of papers he’d been reviewing and tugged off his glasses, lifting a brow.
“Isn’t it a little early to start drinking?”
Bay didn’t answer. Instead, he set the bottles on the desk and strolled to the cabinet where August kept his whiskey. Pulling out the lone bottle, he walked back to the desk, setting it beside the others. His two bottles didn’t match the one in August’s office. Crossing his arms, Bay glared at them, brows bunching together.
August rested his arms on the desk, his attention shifting from the bottles to Bay. “I’m certain there’s a point to whatever you’re doing. Please, enlighten me.”
Lowering himself into a chair, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I believe someone is trying to poison me.”
“What?” August’s voice boomed across the desk.
“Jasper generally buys a bottle of whiskey for each of us every couple weeks. They’re always the same type, like the one I took from your cabinet.” He pointed to the two he brought with him. “These two were in my cabinet. Neither resembles yours, and I didn’t buy them.”
Standing, August walked out of his office, calling down the stairs. “Jasper?”
A moment later, their secretary looked up the stairwell. “Yes, sir?”
“We need you up here.” Returning to his chair, August picked up his bottle, then the other two, studying all three. Setting them down, he lifted his gaze to Bay. “You can tell Jasper and me about what you believe is happening.”
Appearing in the doorway, Jasper blew out an exhausted breath. “Yes, sir?”
Lips twitching in amusement, August motioned him inside. “I didn’t mean for you to run up the stairs.”
“It sounded urgent.”
Scrubbing a hand down his face, Bay pushed aside the sudden bout of nausea. “You’re right, Jasper. It is urgent.”
Tilting his head, Jasper took a good look at Bay’s ashen features. “Are you feeling all right?”
Letting out a shaky breath, he shook his head. “No, and that’s why we’re here. Do you recall how these two bottles came to be in my office?”
“Why, yes. One of your clients brought them in as a gift. Not at the same time, of course. He brought one in a few weeks ago and the other earlier this week. Why?”
“What’s the client’s name?”
Rubbing his temple, Jasper squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them. “Jones.”
“Does he have a first name?” August asked.
Jasper shook his head. “He didn’t say, sir. Mr. Jones did make an appointment but didn’t arrive for it.”
Sitting back in his chair, August rested his hands in his lap. “Bay believes someone is trying to poison him, Jasper.” He looked at his partner. “It’s time you told us the importance of the whiskey bottles.”
Standing, Bay paced across the room, massaging the back of his neck before turning to face them. “Over the last few weeks, I’ve developed severe headaches, dizziness, stomach pain, and tingling sensations in my toes and fingers. They may be caused by something else, but all are signs of poisoning.”
August narrowed his gaze on him. “Which you believe has been added to the whiskey?”
“That’s my guess.” Bay nodded toward the decanter. “A couple weeks ago, I ran out of whiskey at home. I planned to buy another bottle to refill the decanter, but forgot all about it.” Snorting out a disgusted breath, he pursed his lips. “At least a week ago, I poured myself a drink from the decanter, completely overlooking the fact the original bottle had been empty. It took me several days before I remembered running out. That’s what first had me thinking about something not being right.”
“You believe someone entered your house and filled the decanter with poisoned whiskey?”
“Yes, August, I do. I also believe the same person left these bottles of whiskey with Jasper.”
>
Putting a hand over his mouth, Jasper paled.
Bay sat back down. “It wasn’t your fault. There wouldn’t have been any reason for you to believe someone would offer a gift of tainted whiskey. Besides, other than my suspicions, there’s no proof any of these contain poison.”
August reached across the desk, picking up the decanter, studying it. “Vickery or Tilden might be able to help determine if the alcohol is laced with poison.”
Jasper nodded. “If not, they could send the contents to a chemist in San Francisco.”
Pushing from his chair, August walked around the desk, resting a hip against it. “Jasper, I want you to take care of getting the bottles to the clinic this morning.”
“Yes, sir.”
August stared into the distance, stroking his chin. “We need to find Mr. Jones. I’ll go talk with Brodie. Maybe he knows something about him.” He looked at Bay. “Do you have any idea who might have done this and why they’re after you?”
Lips twisting, Bay nodded. “It’s only a guess, August.”
“We have to start somewhere.”
“It could be Everett Hunt, an outlaw who’s supposed to be somewhere in this area. He’s also called the Outlaw Doc because of his background in medicine. Hunt is highly intelligent with an excellent knowledge of compounds.”
August lifted a brow. “Such as the most effective methods of poisoning people?”
Bay nodded. “I had supper with Brodie and Colin last night. That’s when I learned Hunt might be close to town.”
August shook his head. “You should have one of the doctors check you.”
“They won’t be able to determine anything about what’s happening to me until we learn what’s in the whiskey.”
Jaw clenching, August nodded at the bottles. “Jasper, take the bottles and go. Bay and I will be at the sheriff’s office. Afterward, Bay is going to the clinic. Please let Vickery or Tilden know to expect him.”
Jasper didn’t look at Bay as he gathered the bottles, dashing from the office before he could object.
“Does Suzette know?”
Although it shouldn’t, August’s question surprised Bay. “She was with me at supper last night, so she knows about Ev Hunt. Suzette doesn’t know about my illness, and I don’t want to worry her until I know more.”
“How are you feeling now?”
Bay grimaced. “The same as most days the last few weeks. My head is pounding, stomach hurts, and I’ve got a persistent tingling in my fingers. Sometimes there’s a stinging sensation in my toes, but not today.”
“And all of it is getting worse?”
Looking down at his shaking hands, Bay nodded. “Yes.”
Suzette took the venison pie from the oven before checking the buttermilk cornbread in the iron skillet. She wanted to serve him a couple of his favorites before telling him of her decision. Afterward, she’d speak with August. By the end of next week, she expected to be on a train to San Francisco.
She’d wrestled with the decision for weeks, never expecting Bay to finally ask her about Calvan. Retelling the events of that horrible night had been difficult and more painful than she’d anticipated. His reaction hadn’t been at all what she expected.
After much reflection, she guessed August had broken his silence, telling Bay what he knew. Then Griff had ridden in, and Bay heard much of it again. Those discussions, along with her adamant denial of ever betraying him, must have swayed him to listen.
When the story rushed from her lips, she’d first felt sick. Afterward, Suzette had experienced a different feeling. Relief, as if a dark cloud had been lifted and she could breathe again.
Now he wanted more. No divorce and for them to resume their roles as husband and wife. As much as she still loved Bay, the thought of going through a second marriage for show and moving in with him unsettled her. Not because she didn’t love him. She loved him more than ever.
Suzette didn’t have to wonder at the cause of her hesitation. She didn’t trust him and didn’t know if she ever could. The best solution might be to get away, find work in San Francisco and seek some much needed peace.
Her life had been a living hell since Bay left her in St. Louis. He’d broken her heart, but she’d survived, working long hours, hiding inside the house every night, pretending he might return. After a while, she accepted he never would.
Then she’d met August Fielder. He’d been visiting the owner of the restaurant where she worked, having supper with the man each night for a week. By the end of the visit, he’d sat her down, explained the partnership, the hotel and restaurant they were building, and offered her a job. When she’d inquired as to the partners, Suzette had been stunned to learn Bay was not only an investor, but worked with August in his law practice.
They’d spent another hour talking. Or rather, Suzette talked about her and Bay while August listened. She came to find out he’d already heard the story, checked it out with the doctor and sheriff, as well as a few other townsfolk who knew Suzette’s circumstances. After all he’d learned, he’d still offered her the job.
She’d asked for a night to consider his offer. It had been a long night without sleep, her mind flooding with memories of happier times filled with love and the promise of a future. By morning, she’d made her decision.
August’s offer had been too hard to resist. He’d given Suzette her dream job, offering a remarkable salary, which included a house. Even knowing Bay was a partner, she’d accepted.
The promise of a new start, so exciting at first, had soured within the first few days. Suzette’s already empty life hadn’t improved, her spirits and self-respect deteriorating each time Bay brought another woman into the restaurant.
He’d denied sleeping with any of them, and perhaps he was telling the truth. She wanted to believe he was, but how could she know? Once, she’d believed nothing could tear them apart. No matter what, they’d have each other, trust in their union, and fight for its existence. It had been a false belief.
She didn’t doubt finding her with Calvan had been hard for Bay. Still, she couldn’t forgive him for running, assuming her guilty without giving her a chance. Bringing women to Conviction had been done with one purpose in mind. To humiliate and hurt her. He’d been brutal in his disdain and now wanted her to forgive him and forget any of it had happened. Suzette didn’t know if she ever could.
Taking the iron skillet from the stove, she scooped out the cornbread placing them in a basket. Butter and jam were already on the table, along with her best plates and silverware. She wanted to do this right, providing a meal he’d remember while explaining her reasons for leaving Conviction for San Francisco.
If she did go, it might not be forever. Perhaps she’d return one day. But it would happen when she was ready, not because Bay judged her acceptable and wanted to return to the life they’d once shared. For once, Suzette had to think of herself, choosing what would make her happy instead of what would please Bay.
Stilling at the knock on the door, she sucked in a slow breath, her chest squeezing at what she meant to do. The time had come to forge a new future, leaving the pain from her past behind.
Chapter Thirteen
Bay pushed his almost empty plate aside, sitting back on a labored breath. “When you invited me to lunch, I didn’t expect you’d make two of my favorites. Both were excellent, Suzette. Thank you.”
Even though they sat close to each other, he made no move to reach out and take her hand. He also hadn’t kissed her when arriving earlier. His actions puzzled Suzette, made her wonder what had happened to the man who’d wanted to share her bed the night before.
What bothered her more was the sallowness of his complexion, the flat glint in his eyes, the unconscious way he lifted his finger to a temple every few minutes. Her initial decision to speak with him about her reasons for possibly leaving town fell away as she studied him.
“You’re welcome, Bay. I’m glad you still had time to come over.”
He blinked in s
urprise. “I’ll always make time for you, sweetheart.” The words sounded right, but the somber look on his face, the tone of his voice, troubled her. More than she wanted to admit.
“I have pie, if you’re still hungry.”
Holding up a hand, he shook his head. “Thank you, but not today.”
They sat in silence until she couldn’t handle the quiet any longer. “I should clear the table and get ready for work.”
Standing, he pulled out her chair before moving out of her way. “I should be going also.” Leaning down, he grabbed his plate.
“Leave it, Bay. I’ll take care of them.”
He hesitated a moment, then set the plate down. “If you’re sure.”
Giving him a half smile, she nodded. “I am.” Moving past him, she headed to the door, drawing it open. When he started to walk past without touching her, she reached out, gripping his arm. “Is everything all right?”
Glancing down at his arm, he placed his hand over hers. “I’ve a lot on my mind. It has nothing to do with us.”
Inching closer, her worried gaze studied his. “Didn’t we used to say your problems are our problems? Tell me, Bay. What’s bothering you?” Suzette didn’t know why she pressed him. She might be leaving and couldn’t afford to get tangled up in his troubles.
Cupping her face with his hands, he bent down, placing a soft kiss on her lips. “How long will you be at the restaurant tonight?” His voice held no hint of joy. Only worry.
“About nine.”
Kissing her cheek, he stepped away. “I’ll be there a little before to walk you home. We can talk then.”
She cocked her head. “And you’ll tell me what’s wrong?”
Lips drawing into a thin line, he gave a terse nod before stroking a hand down her arm and leaving.
Suzette studied the menu for tonight, the one she’d prepared, along with the rest of the offerings for the week. She’d been excited when jotting down her ideas, ready to try new recipes.
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