Chapter Four
Luke’s hand flopped on the stone floor, the cold bringing him fully awake. What happened? When he tried to sit up, a wave of queasiness sharply twisted his gut, causing a low moan to slip out of his lips.
“Pa! You awake?”
Luke forced open his eyes and then assumed a sitting position even though the floor tilted sharply and unsettled his stomach. He was in a cell, and Colton stood at the bars, wide-eyed and frightened. “Colton, what happened?” Fragments of the past few minutes were jumbled in a head wracked with pain.
“A deputy came in the back door. Knocked you out.”
The wavering panic in his son’s voice made him hurt more than the knot on the back of his head. He looked around the area, empty except for the two of them. Two other cells and a bench against the wall. “Don’t be frightened, Colton. This misunderstanding will be worked out. Did Jones say why he was locking me up? What crime does he think I committed?”
Colton shook his head, his hands still fisted around the bars.
Luke went to stand but thought better of the action and stayed seated on the cot. “Like I said before, this is all some sort of mix-up. We’ll get everything straightened out in time for a hot steak supper tonight. Go now and see if you can find him, but be careful.”
Colton nodded and hurried out the door.
With a grip on the cold iron bar, Luke pulled himself to his feet, causing pain to ricochet across his eyes. A window about seven feet high was on the back wall of his middle cell. To see out he’d have to climb onto the cot, and he didn’t feel steady enough for that. He paced to the cell door and gave it a good shake, his anger mounting. That good-for-nothing Jack Jones was back to haunt him. Brandon hadn’t heard a thing from the man since he’d left Y Knot. Wasn’t difficult to figure out he’d have a vendetta against Brandon, and him and his brothers as well, for his own stupidity and shortcomings. Always blaming his ineptness on everyone else. And now—Jack had the power to exact pain from him. Feeling helpless, he pounded a fist against his thigh.
Colton was back, skidding to a stop in front of the cell door. “I can’t find him or the deputy.”
Leaning against the bars, Luke glanced at the window, thinking the sun had already gone down. Soon a summer night would fall. The small room was hot. Little air could be felt from the window. “That’s okay. He’ll be back soon enough. Did you happen to see a telegraph office around?” I didn’t even look when we rode in.
Colton let out a shaky breath. “No.”
“Well, we won’t need that, anyway. I’ll explain to Jack we haven’t been anywhere except on the trail.” Why was Jones hiding out? Probably scared now that he’d actually locked him up. Joe Brunn was a respected person in this town. Best to search him out before he had a chance to leave on his honeymoon. “Go back to the church and see if Mr. and Mrs. Brunn are still there. You remember where the church is?” Not that I want to flop this mess in their lap on their wedding day, but that can’t be helped now.
“Sure. Just down the street.”
“If you can find Joe, bring him back here. If not, see if Trent Herrick is still at that leather shop, or Reverend Crittlestick. We need to find someone to tell us where Jack Jones is”—hiding out. No, I can’t say that—“and then we’ll be in business.”
Colton turned to go.
“Don’t dally, son. Do what you set out to do and get right back. If not, I’ll worry.”
Colton’s brows scrunched together. “I’ll find someone, Pa. I can take care of myself.”
To fortify Colton, Luke forced a smile. The boy must have bad memories of this town already because of Ward Brown, his infamous uncle. If those memories made Luke uneasy, how much worse were they for Colton, having witnessed the calamity and unable to help? He’d only been eight at the time—but such a trouper. “I know you can. And I’m proud of you. And plenty relieved you’re here to help.”
Colton took a step back. “I best get going before it’s dark.”
“You’re right. Go on and get back. See what you can find out.” A thought gripped him so tight he almost gasped. “But if you see Jack, best to keep your distance. Only approach him if someone else is with you. That man may have a few loose boards upstairs.” He tapped his temple.
Colton’s nostrils flared. “Be back soon.”
With that, Luke was once again alone in the stuffy five-by-eight enclosure, itching to get his hands on Jack Jones. What that man was up to could be anything.
Chapter Five
A knock on the front door brought Ashley Adair out of their guestroom bedside chair, and she hurried to the front room.
Ashley’s mother, distraught with grief over the happenings in their sleepy little town, looked from the kitchen alcove with red, puffy eyes.
Ashley pulled open the door. “Sheriff Jones. Deputy Clark. Please, come in.” She stepped aside.
Both men removed their hats, wiped their boots, and entered.
Because of her mother’s cooking, the air in the room was thick and uncomfortably warm despite the wide-open windows. What Ashley wouldn’t give for a blessed, cool breeze.
“Blanche still here?” Sheriff Jones asked.
“Yes. And she’ll remain here until she’s ready to go home,” Mrs. Angelia Adair said, coming into the room. “She finally fell asleep. Poor thing is beside herself over Benson. She loved him very much.”
Ashley couldn’t stop her gaze from straying to the hall that led to the bedrooms. What had happened to poor Benson was atrocious. He’d been such a nice fellow, always saying hello to everyone. Careful with his words so as not to speak crudely, not like some of the other freighters that now and then came through Priest’s Crossing. He was a true gentleman through and through. And now Blanche was a widow at twenty-nine years old. Amazingly, she’d lived through the vicious attack by that horrible man locked up in the jail. The half-breed, her mind whispered. Like the man who killed my father. She’d collapsed onto their guestroom bed in a storm of tears and had finally fallen asleep from exhaustion. Her face was badly beaten. What she’d gone through shouldn’t happen to anyone, let alone a woman like Blanche. Her friend would need much care to get over this heartbreak. “Has he confessed?” Ashley asked, clasping her fingers tightly together. What made a man snap like that?
“No,” Jones replied flatly. “He was still out cold when I left. But with Blanche being an eyewitness, he’ll have a hard time making anyone believe any different.”
Deputy Clark scowled.
With his bloodshot eyes and wrinkled shirt, he looked as if he hadn’t slept a wink last night. She thought she detected a slight scent of whiskey.
“What will you do now?” Ashley’s mother asked. “Since you have the perpetrator already locked up? Seems like a closed-book case.”
Feeling like a swarm of bees battled in her stomach, Ashley stepped to the window and looked out on the sleepy street that ran into town. The school, where she had taken over as teacher for Blanche when she married Benson, could barely be seen a quarter mile away at the end of Main Street. The gigantic oak stood guard over the building as if this evening was the same as any other in the year. “It’s horrible,” she whispered, still gazing out. “Murder in our own little Priest’s Crossing. And in cold blood.” She turned back. “No one should die because of money.”
Sheriff Jones rubbed his chin. “That’s the part I don’t get. Luke McCutcheon is one of the richest ranchers in the territory. He could buy and sell this whole town ten times over with his petty cash.”
Ashley’s mother straightened. “Are you saying Blanche isn’t telling the truth?”
The sheriff jerked as if he’d been slapped across the face, reminding Ashley of when he’d first come to town. During the Christmas social, he’d pestered her nonstop and even tried to kiss her. She hadn’t slapped him, but she’d wanted to and told him so in no uncertain terms. Since then, he’d been a gentleman. After he became sheriff, he seemed like a whole different person.
/> “Of course we believe Blanche,” Hoss Clark, the powerfully built deputy, said before Jack could open his mouth. “She’s lived here all her life.”
Ashley cocked her head. “No, actually, she hasn’t. Not her whole life. Just since becoming the teacher nine years ago. She’s from Chicago.”
A vision of Miss Lowrich, her name until marrying Benson, standing at the blackboard on the day her mama brought Ashley to school for the first time hadn’t faded over those years. Blanche was twenty and the most beautiful woman Ashley ever saw: independent, strong, with a tiny waist and thick, midnight-colored hair. She had stories about the exciting people and goings-on in the world outside Priest’s Crossing. Sometimes this little town seemed much too small to contain her. When the teacher took a shine to the skittish nine-year-old, perhaps because both were new arrivals to town, Ashley had felt special. Still healing from the violent death of her father, Ashley had soaked up Miss Lowrich’s attention and praise like a thirsty rose.
The deputy lifted a shoulder. “That’s plenty long enough to be one of us. But that don’t make any difference. She’s a trusted member of the community, and McCutcheon is an outsider.”
Thinking of Blanche’s battered face, Ashley blinked against the burn of tears behind her eyes.
Her mother came to her side and put a comforting arm around her waist.
“She’s my dear friend,” Ashley said. “She believed in me. Gave me a chance. Helped me take my teaching test right here in town and then hired me. In my book, no one is as unblemished in kindness or character.”
Both lawmen nodded like twins. Good. She was thankful they were in agreement. Blanche had already been through a nightmare of unfathomable proportions, losing her beloved husband and then suffering at the hands of his murderer. Ashley wouldn’t let any more sadness befall her in the days to come.
Chapter Six
Darkness had long since fallen. Luke, the dizziness having faded away, climbed on his cot and stared out back, not a soul in sight. Where was Colton? What was taking him so long? Not being able to protect his son was the worst part of this charade.
A hot wind puffed inside, and his anger was replaced with a mustard seed of alarm, a feeling he was unaccustomed to. What would happen? Did Jack really believe he could get away with something so dishonest? Or did the thick-skulled man really think Luke’d committed a crime? He still didn’t know what he was accused of. The look of the battered woman pointing at him was burned into his mind like a red-hot brand.
Scuffling sounded. The door between the cells and the office opened. Still standing on the cot, Luke looked over his shoulder at the sight of his dejected boy approaching the cold steel bars. He stepped down and went to his son.
“Colton.” He tried to infuse calm into his voice. “What did you find out?”
“Nothin’, Pa,” Colton responded. “Couldn’t find the sheriff or the deputy. I did find out the telegraph operator skedaddled out of town last month, taking most the equipment.”
Okay, there are other ways. “Did you find Trent Herrick?”
“He’s nowhere, Pa. I went to that shop and banged on the door until someone else came from next door and told me to stop making a ruckus and go away. I tried to ask him about Jack Jones or the deputy, but he just shooed me off.”
Luke sucked in a deep breath. Let’s not panic. “And the church?”
“Everyone’s gone. Even the reverend. I went to the livery to see if Mr. Herrick’s team was still there, and it is. As well as his buckboard.”
Still a chance to get word home. “That was good thinking, Colton. At least we know Trent hasn’t left town.”
“I’m sorry I let you down.” Colton’s shoulders slumped, and he didn’t even try to shake away the hair that had fallen into his eyes. Smudges of dirt marked his shirt that hadn’t been there before he’d left.
“Come here.” In the dark jail, Luke reached through the bars and took hold of Colton’s hand giving it a shake. “Don’t worry. They can’t hold me for something I didn’t do. Tomorrow, this situation will get straightened out. I’ll be released. We’ll head back to Y Knot. Even do some hunting along the way.” That scenario sounded better with each word and yet didn’t bring a smile to Colton’s face. “But on the off chance we do have more problems with Jack, I want you to be at that leather shop before sunup. We can’t chance missing Trent’s departure. Tell him what’s happened and ask him to get word to the Heart of the Mountains as soon as he reaches Y Knot.”
Colton nodded. “But the trip back in a wagon will take him a good five days.” His eyes grew large. “That’s a long time. Can’t he do something here to help?”
That’s a good question. “I don’t think so. Jack won’t listen to anyone. He likes the power he wields, especially against me. I’d rather know that word was heading toward the ranch hands. They’ll know what to do.” At least, I hope they do. With his pa, brothers, and Brandon all down in Cheyenne, Luke wasn’t quite sure yet what that help might be. Roady was at the ranch with Sally and their new two-month-old daughter. Still, he’d think of something.
“I won’t let Trent get away, Pa. Not without talking with him first.” A wobbly smile appeared. “You can count on me.”
“I know I can. Now, go back to the hotel and get some sleep.” Luke straightened and glanced out the door. “Wait. You haven’t had any supper. Those little portions at the wedding weren’t enough to feed a mouse.”
“You didn’t either.”
Under the circumstances, Luke hadn’t even noticed he’d missed a meal. “I’ll be fine.” Luke reached into his pocket for the silver room key, which he was surprised Jack had missed. Unfortunately, the implement hadn’t worked on the cell door. “I know you already have a key to our room, but take this one too. See if Mr. Kasterlee at the hotel can find you something for supper. Be sure and ask. He can charge that, and whatever else you might need, to our room. Do you have any money left?” He placed the key into Colton’s palm as his son nodded. “Good. Jack took my money clip when he grabbed my gun.”
Colton wasn’t saying anything, but even in the semidarkness, Luke could see the apprehension lurking in his eyes.
Luke grasped his shoulder and gently squeezed. “Go on, the time’s gettin’ late. Everything will be all right. We just have to be patient. Get some sleep and then get over to that leather shop bright and early. Catching Trent before he heads out of town is important. He may be going at dawn.”
Colton just stared.
“Later tomorrow, I’d appreciate you bringing me my trail clothes.” He didn’t have to look to know his dress clothes were rumpled and stained. “I’ll be more comfortable.” Colton looked young and frightened. His eyes drooped with fatigue. Luke longed in the worst way to pull his son into his arms and assure him of their future. Problem was, the bars prevented that, and he wasn’t all that sure himself what tomorrow would bring.
Chapter Seven
Denver, Colorado, one month earlier
Judge Harrison Wesley pushed back his heavy captain’s chair from the supper table, satisfied by the hearty meal weighting his stomach. “That was wonderful!” He patted the waistband of his woolen suit as he looked at his five-year-old daughter, her big blue eyes pulling at his heart. “What do you think, Carlie? What was your favorite dish? I don’t think I’ve savored a better Sunday supper in my life.”
Pauline lifted her brows. “You say that every week.”
“My favorite will be the chocolate cake, Papa. I helped Mrs. Drier with the mixing. We stayed up until eight o’clock.”
Ignoring the soft tsking sound coming from his sister-in-law sitting to his right, Harrison reached over and stroked the underside of Carlie’s chin. “Then I can hardly wait. Did you stick your finger into the batter as sweetener?”
Carlie giggled, causing her chestnut curls to bounce around her small shoulders and the lace collar of her dress. “No, Papa, the sugar did that.” She scooted out of her chair and reached for her plate. “May I help
take our plates to the kitchen? We’ll get to dessert quicker.”
“No, my dearest,” Pauline scolded as she patted her lips with the linen napkin.
Carlie’s smile fell.
“Let Mrs. Drier clear the table,” Pauline went on. “That’s what she’s paid to do. You’re a lady. Ladies wait to be served. She’ll be in shortly. Sit and put your napkin back in your lap.”
Pauline. My sister-in-law. The bane of my life. She hadn’t been so controlling when Agnes was still alive, but since Harrison’s wife passed, she’d become downright insufferable. Controlling Carlie all the time. He knew the grief from losing her much-younger sister was to blame, but Carlie was grieving, as well. His little girl needed time, patience, and love. The nine months since Agnes’s death felt like ten years. Time had finally arrived to make a change.
“Nonsense.” He looked at his daughter’s dinner plate—the fine china he’d given Agnes, his second wife, as a wedding present six years ago—practically wiped clean. “I think your helping Mrs. Drier tonight would be very thoughtful. Just be careful with the serving pieces.”
“Harrison!”
His stern look halted Pauline’s next words as Carlie gingerly lifted her plate with both hands and headed for the kitchen.
“You’re ruining that child.”
He pulled a toothpick from his front pocket and put the implement into his mouth. “Please don’t start—not tonight.”
“Agnes would be horrified if she thought Carlie was clearing a table like a common servant.”
He struggled not to frown. “I asked you to stop.”
Carlie returned, followed by a slow-moving Mrs. Drier carrying a large white tray.
The housekeeper and cook had been in the household since he’d married Agnes, and a pleasanter woman he’d never met. She was good medicine for his daughter. Pauline had been living with them as well since the week after the wedding. Unmarried at thirty-one and both parents buried in the graveyard at the church, she had had nowhere else to go. Now, at thirty-eight, she was still a handsome woman but far from the beauty her sister had been. If she’d just smile once in a while or laugh, their lives would be a lot happier.
Montana Promise (McCutcheon Family Series Book 10) Page 3