by Tracey Cross
A block down, he saw a couple of Bedlow’s men walking toward the saloon. “Thacker!”
Thacker spun around, his hand reaching for his pistol. When he saw Franklin, he sneered. “What do you want, Lloyd?”
Franklin ignored the man’s surly tone. “I’m just inquiring after Mrs. Albright.”
The man cut his eyes at his companion, then worked his jaw around a chew of tobacco and spat. “She stayed in Deadwood.”
Relief washed over Franklin. Then she had spoken to Trent after all. That was good. He imagined her in the library at his home, as he’d left her. He smiled at the men. “Well, you two try not to get too awful stupid drunk. If that’s possible.”
Thacker’s mouth slid into an obscene grin, and he winked. “So it don’t bother you, knowin’ your gal took a shine to Bedlow?”
“What are you talking about, Thacker?” Franklin laughed. “The last person Mrs. Albright would take a shine to is Bedlow. She knows what a ball of filth he is.”
Andy, eyes averted, had remained silent. Franklin knew the man to be somewhat decent, even if he did work for Bedlow.
Thacker snickered. “Last time I seen your woman, she was in Bedlow’s Saloon. Maybe you don’t know her like you think you do.”
Franklin’s throat dried instantly. “Andy? Is there any truth to this fool’s statements?”
“I saw her.”
Andy looked as though he might elaborate, but Thacker shoved Franklin’s shoulder. “Who you callin’ a fool? Least I can keep a woman.”
Franklin sized him up, tempted and frustrated enough to leave the man eating mud, but he needed more answers. Feeling like he’d been kicked in the gut, Franklin kneed his horse and rode the rest of the way to Solomon’s. It couldn’t be true. Thacker must be trying to get under his skin. Wagons stood in rows on the far side of the yard. Franklin dismounted and headed for the stable. He ran a practiced eye over the livestock there. His stomach knotted. They weren’t here. He headed over to the clerk, who walked around, tallying the oxen that had arrived.
He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to ask. The clerk looked up at him. “Can I help you, Mr. Lloyd?”
“I don’t know. I came to ask about Mrs. Albright.”
“You mean the woman freighter?”
Franklin nodded.
“Oh, Mr. Bedlow asked us to order several yards of white silk and a veil. Oh, and a cradle. I guess it was possible for someone to snag the boss after all. None of us ever would have believed it.”
Franklin winced and tightened his lips over his clenched teeth. How could he have been so wrong about her? She’d been horrified that he’d attended to her while she was ill. Had her modesty been an act?
No, if she were desperate enough to accept a proposal from Bedlow, she had either fallen in love, or been coerced. He couldn’t imagine Jane being coerced into anything. And what could Bedlow have possibly tried to hold over her? His mind twisted here and there faster than a tornado until he had to admit that Bedlow must have courted her with enough flare that she had fallen for him.
He spun the horse around and headed back to the house, mentally kicking himself for not bringing her and Danny with him. As it turned out, another week on the trail wouldn’t have hurt anything. He stormed through the front door, almost colliding with a young towheaded girl, who stumbled backwards.
“Becky, I’m so sorry.” He bent down and patted her head, relieved to see a smile crease her face.
“It’s all right, Uncle Franklin. I’m not hurt.” She cocked her head to one side. “Why are you in such a hurry? You hungry? We already ate.”
Bess entered the foyer from the kitchen, a damp curl falling across her forehead. “But maybe Cook and I saved something back for him, Becky. Come eat, Franklin.”
“Thank you, but I’m not hungry. I want to look in on Coop, then I have some paperwork to take care of. I’ll be down later.” He turned and headed for the stairs.
“Franklin?” At Bess’s puzzled tone, he turned back to her.
“What is it?” He couldn’t keep the impatience from his voice.
“That’s what I’d like to know.” Her brow was puckered with worry.
His heart skipped a beat. That same expression used to cross Martha’s lovely face whenever she was concerned about something. Usually him.
He cleared his throat. “What do you mean?”
She ignored his question. “Why are you so upset? Bedlow’s wagons came into town. Is this about Jane Albright?”
He sighed and retraced his steps. He should know better than to try to hide anything from his sister-in-law. She knew him too well. “I really do have some work upstairs to take care of. Could you join me in the parlor in about an hour? We’ll talk then.”
“Of course. Call me when you’re ready.” She patted his arm, then took Becky by the hand. “Come on, dear. It’s time for your reading lesson.”
Franklin found his brother sitting by the window working on a harness.
“’Bout time you showed up. It’s two hours past closing.”
“Well, you’re in a good mood,” Franklin growled back. “Indoors getting to you?”
“Yeah, sorry. It’ll be good to get back to work again. How is everything going?”
“Fine. So don’t even think about getting up until Doc says you’re ready to be on your feet.”
“If you don’t tell me more than just fine, I’m getting up right now.”
Even though he knew Coop was still too wounded to do more than bluff, Franklin filled him in on the progress.
“We lost Rutledge’s account?”
Franklin nodded. “The order got messed up, and he lost several hundred dollars.”
“Uncle Nathan?”
“’Fraid so.”
“I have to get back down there before we lose any more business.”
“Don’t blame the old man,” Franklin said. “He might not be as sharp as he once was, but he’s still better than most.”
“Tell that to Mr. Rutledge.” Coop rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt the old man’s feelings.”
“Good. Get some rest. I’ll see you at dinner.” He stood and walked toward the door.
“Hey, Frank,” Coop called after him, “something wrong? I mean, other than me being a useless pile of skin and muscle?”
“You’re not that. And nothing’s wrong that anyone can do anything about. You get some rest.”
Franklin left his brother and walked down the hall to his own room.
After Martha had died, he’d moved out of their suite of rooms and into a small room on the other side of the house. It was bare of everything but necessities. Bess insisted on keeping it for him even though he’d deeded the house over to her when he resettled in Deadwood. She’d also added a few homey touches to the room here and there. Bright rag rugs by the bed and in front of the wash stand. A patchwork quilt on the bed instead of the plain wool blanket he’d opted for. The blanket was stored in a trunk beneath the window for colder weather.
He shrugged out of his coat and laid it across the bed, then sat at the corner desk and worked on some letters he’d been putting off.
When he went downstairs, Bess was already in the parlor. A tray with a pot of coffee and sandwiches sat on a small table.
“There you are. You really need to eat a little something, Frank. It’s a long time till supper.” Not sure he could swallow past the tightness in his throat, he nevertheless reached for a sandwich.
Bess handed him a cup of coffee then sat back in her chair. “Now tell me why Jane isn’t here.”
“She stayed in Deadwood.”
Confusion washed over her face.
Franklin blamed himself for her confusion. After all, he could have told her in the first place that Jane was quitting Mr. Bedlow and coming home to pay the rest of the debt by renting the land, but things had escalated once he’d gotten home and he’d put in long hours at the freight office.
“Whatever for?”
F
irst things first. “I never got around to telling you that Jane wasn’t going to haul freight after all. She was going to rent most of her homestead land to me except for a couple of acres for her own use. That way she can pay off the debt, I can use the grazing land, and she gets to go back home with Danny.”
“Why that’s brilliant! We should have thought of that in the first place.”
“I wish I had.” He shook his head, disgusted with himself for hand-delivering Jane Albright into Bedlow’s lair.
“What do you mean? You sound worried.”
“Apparently Bedlow made her a better offer, or she just prefers his company to ours.” His stomach tightened as he spoke. “She must have taken a liking to him.”
“What? You aren’t serious. Why would you say such a thing?”
“One of Bedlow’s men told me the news. I was rather surprised myself at first, but of course, we don’t really know Mrs. Albright that well, do we?” Not like he thought he had anyway. The bitter thought settled in his brain, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from exploding with angry words. “She has evidently accepted a proposal from Bedlow and has even been seen in his saloons.”
Bess gasped. “Nonsense!” She leaned forward, and he ducked back to keep from getting a waving finger in his eye. “I cannot believe you would fall for such an untruth. Why, that dear girl would die before she’d take to the likes of Bedlow or sink to his level. The man is flat out lying.”
A glimmer of hope washed over him. “But what reason would he have to lie about it?”
“Why indeed? I suggest you find out. And I’ll warrant that whatever it is, Bedlow’s behind it.” Her eyes widened. “That poor girl could be in danger. And here you are wasting time nursing your ego. Shame on you!”
The worry Franklin had held at bay hit him full force. Was it possible Bess was right? Something had been bothering him ever since he heard the news. It just didn’t ring true. Regardless of any question about her morals or character, he knew Jane loved her boy, and the homestead was important to her. That much he’d bet on.
He tossed the rest of the sandwich onto the tray and stood. “You may be right. I’m going to find Thacker and get to the bottom of this.”
Bess’s hand clutched his sleeve. “Be careful, Franklin. Bedlow’s men are ruthless. Don’t take chances.”
Franklin gave a wry grin “And just a moment ago you were scolding me and my ego.” He patted her hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t do anything foolish.”
A clap of thunder rent the air. Franklin pulled on the reins to control the skittish horse. A few raindrops settled on the dusty street as he rode through town. He tied the horse to the hitching post in front of the saloon, where he suspected he’d find Thacker.
Pushing through the swinging doors, he stopped just inside to get his bearings. He hadn’t been inside a saloon since he’d dragged his young apprentice, Casey Sparks, out, dunked him in the horse trough, and taken him home, kicking and sputtering, to his worried mother. The boy thanked him the next day. Even though, a year later, his mother, also an employee of Franklin’s, had succumbed to illness, Casey had stayed with him and become a loyal employee.
The smoke-filled room reeked of tobacco, alcohol, and unwashed bodies. Striding through the rowdy crowd, he made his way to the bar.
Clyde, the bartender, gave him a surprised look. “What’ll it be, Parson? Haven’t seen you around in a while.”
“Clyde, you know I’m not a preacher anymore.” When would everyone get that through their heads? “I’m looking for Bob Thacker. Is he still in here?”
Clyde scratched his beard and glanced toward the stairs. “Uh, I ’spect he’s a mite busy right now.”
Frustrated, Franklin glanced around the room. He spotted Andy Armor, the man who’d been with Thacker earlier, sitting at a corner table alone. “Okay, thanks,” Franklin told Clyde.
He walked through the crowd again, pushing aside bodies that stumbled into his way, until he reached Armor’s table.
The man held a cigar between two of the three fingers on his right hand and cupped a glass of beer in the other. He glanced up, startled.
“What can I do for you, Lloyd?” Armor’s voice shook slightly. Franklin didn’t know if he was nervous or drunk.
“I was looking for Thacker, but he doesn’t appear to be available. I need something cleared up, and I guess you’re going to have to do.”
Armor glanced around the room, then said in a low voice, “Not here. Go outside and around back. I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”
Taken aback that the man had agreed so quickly, Franklin went back through the swinging doors and mounted his horse. He rode around to the back of the saloon, staying mounted just in case Armor had ambush on his mind. The man didn’t seem like the type, but you never knew. After all, he was employed by Bedlow.
After a few minutes he heard stealthy footsteps, and Armor came around the building.
Franklin waited a minute to make sure he was alone, then dismounted Tryst, holding the reins.
“I guess you want to know about Miz Albright.”
“That’s right. What can you tell me?”
“Well, first of all, I can tell you Bob was lying to you. Miz Albright is a real Christian lady, and that stuff he said was hogwash.”
“What do you mean? She wasn’t in the saloon?” Rain began to pour down in a torrent, but Franklin ignored it except to adjust his hat.
“No, she was in the saloon all righty. But I ain’t sure how much choice she had.” He peered into the darkness, as though someone might overhear.
Franklin’s stomach tightened, and his mouth felt like cotton. “Tell me what you know.”
“Well, sir, when Bedlow went to her wagon to check on his supplies, pert near everything was smashed or ruined in some way.”
“What? But how could that be?” He’d heard of entire loads being lost like that, but it was usually because of a wagon turning over or outlaws shooting things up.
Armor shrugged. “I dunno. May have been damaged somehow on the trail, but that don’t seem too likely. I watched her when she packed up and battened everything down. She did a right good job too. And she double-checked everything when we stopped at night. Still…” He swallowed.
“So what about Mrs. Albright? What did she do?” Franklin could hear his own voice shake.
“She told me she had to find a way to work off what she owed Bedlow. But that varmint had everyone too scared to hire her on.”
“Why would she tell you?” Was this man feeding him lies too?
“Well, you see, I think she kinda took a liking to me. On account of the music.”
“The music?” What was the man rambling on about? Couldn’t he get to the point?
“I played the harmonica every night on the trail, and one night I played ‘Amazing Grace’ for her.” A strange expression crossed his face. “She thanked me real sweet and Christian-like. I’d a-played it for her every night if Bob hadn’t thrown such a fit.”
“All right, Armor, so what exactly did she say to you about Bedlow?” Franklin had never been one to panic, but he was getting pretty near it now.
“Seems he told her she had to work off what she owed him for the damaged freight.”
“Work it off, how? How did he want her to work it off?” Franklin grabbed the man by the front of his shirt, then realizing what he’d done, turned loose, fighting to hold back overwhelming nausea.
“Mr. Lloyd.” The man’s eyes blazed into Franklin’s. “Like I said, Miz Albright is a real lady. But Bedlow ain’t no gentleman. There’s no telling what he has in mind. But it ain’t nothing good. If I was you, I wouldn’t waste any time getting there.”
Coldness crept up Franklin’s body and his face felt like stone. He returned the man’s gaze. “Thank you, Mr. Armor. I believe you’re right. I’ll leave today.”
Relief lit the other man’s eyes. “Good. And I’d be obliged if you’d call me Andy.”
“Thanks, Andy.” H
e mounted Tryst. “If you find yourself in need of a change of jobs, come see me. I’ll hire you on the spot.”
“That so?”
Franklin nodded. “You have my word.”
“Thank you, sir. I just might do that.”
Franklin waited for Andy to get back around the building before he nudged Tryst forward. If Thacker knew Andy had talked to him, he’d probably kill him. Franklin didn’t want that on his conscience.
He hated to leave Uncle Nathan and Coop to play catchup without him, but they’d just have to hire a couple of good hands. Actually, Andy would be a good choice. He’d have to be sure and mention it to Coop and Nathan.
His mind flew back to Jane, and a shudder ran through his body. He headed back to the house to pack his saddlebags. Bess was sitting in the parlor embroidering. By the expectant look she gave him as he walked in, he knew she’d been waiting for him.
She patted the sofa next to her, and he sank down. “I can tell by your face you don’t have good news.”
“I’m afraid not.” Leaning over, he put his face in his hands for a moment, then sat up straight, taking a deep breath.
“Don’t try to spare me, Franklin. Just tell me.”
He didn’t hold back. By the time he’d relayed to her what Andy had told him, her face was white and her lips pinched.
“You’re going to get her.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, I’ll only take what can fit into my saddlebags. I’ll be riding hard.”
She nodded and stood. “I’ll make you some sandwiches and pack up some jerky for the trail. They won’t take much space.”
He nodded. “Not too much, though. There will be small game. I won’t go hungry.”
“I know.” She started to speak, then bit her lip and headed to the kitchen.
He went upstairs to talk to Uncle Nathan and Coop and pack the few belongings he’d take with him.
An hour later, he stood in the hallway. He’d already strapped his gear to the horse. Now to say good-bye…
“I’ll be praying.” Bess’s eyes swam with tears.
“I know.” He smiled and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll get word to you as soon as I know anything.”