With his excellent eyesight, Francis noticed a slight tremor in his hands, and then his mouth pulled angrily to one side. Every few seconds, he dared another glance in their direction. Kasterlee wasn’t happy to see him speaking with Miss Adair. Why? Did he know something Francis didn’t?
Chapter Seventeen
Ashley knew she needed to stop fostering these warm thoughts toward this cowboy from Y Knot. He was on the wrong side. Blanche’s enemy, so to speak. And especially now, with the ardent widower, Jed Kasterlee, watching her and Francis’s conversation as he swept clean his boardwalk kitty-corner across the street. Last year, the hotel owner had set his sights on her, but since she’d turned him down, he hadn’t said more than boo in passing—which suited her just fine. But now that didn’t stop his glances from under his small-brimmed brown hat. She avoided him whenever possible, but today his chore out front had him close enough she could feel his intent gaze. “Francis, your thinking out loud puts me off. As much as you believe your boss is innocent, I think the same of my good friend.”
“Sorry, Miss Adair, that isn’t my intent. I appreciate your willingness to help me work through my questions. I really do. Jack Jones and Deputy Clark have been noticeably closed-mouthed about any evidence. I wonder if that’s why Jack’s been disappearing. I don’t see him around much during the day.”
“He’s working on his house, a deserted shack he claimed soon after he came to town. Making improvements. At least, that’s what he does with most of his time after he comes into town in the morning and returns again in the late afternoon. Deputy Clark sees to most of the lawbreaking matters.”
“Where is the place?”
She pointed past the jail. “A quarter mile beyond my house.” Was she giving away too much information? A niggle of apprehension swirled inside. Telling the truth couldn’t hurt. But if what Francis said about his boss was true, then some sort of blame for Benson’s death might lie at Blanche’s feet. That just wasn’t possible. Blanche Van Gleek had been nothing but sincere and morally upright for all the time Ashley had known her. She had been full of energy and maybe a little restless, but that was only natural. Before she’d arrived in Priest’s Crossing, she’d probably been used to a more exciting life than people led in this little town. When Blanche fell in love with Benson and he asked for her hand in marriage, Blanche spoke to the town council in favor of Ashley taking over her position, even though she was only seventeen at the time. She owed Blanche so much. Ashley would never turn her back on her.
One by one, the men she’d seen galloping past her home stepped out of the sheriff’s office. They glanced slowly up and down the street, as if committing every small detail to memory. Four large white men and a dangerous-looking Mexican made up the group. The woman must be McCutcheon’s wife, for she remained inside.
“Those are the ranch hands from the Heart of the Mountains,” Francis said when he saw the men emerge. “The remainder stayed back at the ranch to watch over things there. The operation is large.”
“It appears so. That many ranch hands bespeaks great wealth.”
He captured her gaze. “Exactly my point.”
He didn’t have to say any more. She wondered if something was amiss with Blanche’s story of how things happened, but she’d not tell him that.
The men collected their horses and proceeded down the street toward the livery. As they approached, they stared at her and Francis.
Embarrassment turned to anger. Had they no manners? Just as that thought was about to pass her lips, the men nodded and touched their hats.
“Francis,” a bowlegged, leather-skinned fella called out. “We’d like to speak with you, when you can tear yourself away.”
“On my way, Smokey.” He didn’t make a move to go.
Flattered, she dropped her gaze to the boardwalk and felt a tiny smile on her lips. She liked his attention and conversation.
“I have one last thing to say.”
Francis held her gaze longer than was proper. The fact that she didn’t look away troubled her conscience. “Yes?”
“Be careful.”
“Careful?” Her heart did a summersault. “Why?”
“I know Luke is innocent. That means whoever killed Benson Van Gleek isn’t locked up. That person is out there—somewhere. Who knows what might spook ’em?”
When she opened her mouth to object, he held up a silencing finger to his lips. “Just consider what I’ve said. Please.” With that, he turned on his boot heel.
She watched him walk away, catching sight of Jed Kasterlee still snooping. Angered, she looked directly at the hotel owner.
He snapped away his gaze.
A plausible explanation had to exist why a rich McCutcheon would come to Blanche and Benson’s home and demand money. Perhaps he had a secret history with Benson, the money was owed him from a past debt, and he was angry Benson hadn’t yet paid. Or he’d found himself in financial troubles and was too embarrassed to tell his family. Several different situations not yet explored were possible. She’d not turn her back so quickly on her best friend just because Francis made her feel all warm and fluttery. Or that his sincerity and claims had merit. She wasn’t a warm and fluttery type. She thought things through. Looked for evidence in every situation, and that’s just what she would do here, before things got out of hand.
Chapter Eighteen
Francis strode into the livery under the suspicious gaze of Pink Kelly, the proprietor. Thick blond hair covered the stable owner’s head, and a blue kerchief was tied around his neck. Instead of the usual clothing of denim overalls most stable hands liked, Pink Kelly wore close-fitting jeans that hugged a slim waist. His shirtsleeves were rolled midway up his arms and a pair of gloves were looped over his leather belt.
Francis smiled and passed through the barn into the rear breezeway that led to an outbuilding, the one where he’d told the men to store their guns. As he grew closer, the voices he heard quieted at his approach until he turned the corner to find them circled up close. Francis glanced up the ladder. “Up top?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
Shad nodded. “But I don’t like leaving them there for long. We may need ’em.”
Nick’s brows drew down. “You think a gunfight is certain?”
Roady, his arms crossed over his chest, said, “’Course not. We’re not here to break the law. If we wanted to take Luke out of the jail that way, with all of us, the doin’ would be easy. But then we’d have a chase on our hands, and someone might get killed. Francis was smart to give us a heads-up about our weapons being seized. Once darkness falls, we’ll find a better place to store them. But for now, under the hay will do.”
The men tightened their circle around Francis.
“What do you know?” Roady whispered, his tone deep in all seriousness.
Francis had never seen the ranch foreman so grave. “Luke thinks someone else, besides the woman, must have been inside. I’d say that’s a good hunch unless she’s the one who killed her husband.” He glanced over his shoulder and out the door to be sure they were still alone. “Her cabin is locked up tight. Clark and Jones aren’t saying much. I’m not sure they did any investigating at all. Just learned Jones is renovating his house, of all things. I guess he feels like his job is done now that he has an eyewitness and a suspect locked up. He’s waiting on a judge.”
Pedro’s jaw clenched and released several times. “He knows Luke’s innocent. He knows and yet keeps the jefe locked up like an animal.” The Mexican’s eyes formed into slits. “Jones is a tonto del culo. Needs a visit to the anthill.”
Smokey gripped Pedro’s shoulder and gave a little shake. “Don’t let your temper get the best of ya. We need to keep our wits about us, to help the boss, not make things worse.”
Francis nodded. “Smokey’s right. The townsfolk have been watching me as if they think I’m Longabaugh of the Wild Bunch and just broke out of jail in Sundance. There’re never less than six sets of eyes on me at all times. Feels eerie. At
other times, I feel sort of famous. They’re even suspicious of Colton. Poor kid has been shouldering the scorn until I arrived. He’s not said much but feels responsible for what’s happened to his pa. If not for sneaking off, Luke would have an alibi.” He heaved a deep sigh, thankful the men had arrived. With everyone working on the case, they’d clear Luke. He glanced at the foreman. “I didn’t think I’d see you here, with Sally giving birth so recently.”
“She insisted I come. She’s staying with Heather while I’m gone and has a lot of help. She’s worried about Luke, just like the rest of us. That said, we have some investigatin’ to do. Tonight at the cabin. See if we can’t come up with something Jack missed.”
“Evening, boys,” Deputy Clark said, stepping into the shed. His eyes narrowed. “What’s going on out here?”
The strong-armed liveryman was only one beat behind. His shoulders filled the doorway.
“Just catching up on events without the town listening in,” Roady said evenly, his tone friendly. “We arrived a little while ago. We’re just sorting things out and wanted someplace quiet where we could talk. You must be Deputy Clark. I’m Roady Guthrie, the ranch foreman.”
The deputy’s nostrils flared when his gaze traveled to each man. “You came unarmed.”
His skeptical tone said he didn’t believe that for a second.
Roady smiled, then glanced at Francis and the others. “We’re a friendly bunch.”
“Yeah, right. You’ve already been at the jail. You know all you need to know.”
“Just hearing Francis’s version.”
Francis shrugged and gave his best innocent face. Clark was a big man. Looked hard of arm and strong. Not a pushover like Jack Jones.
“Did you leave your guns with Jack?” the deputy demanded.
“You’ll have to ask him,” Roady replied calmly.
The liveryman’s chin jutted out. “You’re paying me to keep your horses. Not give you a place to plot more killin’. You best get outta here!”
Nick straightened and his face turned hard.
One thing Francis had learned about Nick was that he had a fuse shorter than an eyeblink long. If a man was being square with him, he’d take orders fine, but he didn’t cotton to being on the squat end of sass. And especially not from a stranger. Shad had to intervene a few times in Y Knot when things had gotten rowdy in the Hitching Post.
Roady tipped his head toward the door. “Let’s go get a few rooms and then find something to eat, fellas.” He rubbed his stomach. “I’m plumb empty.”
Smokey played along with a smile, and the rest only nodded as they filed past the two.
The liveryman’s lingering aroma of horse manure made the air heavy, and Francis was only too happy to comply. The look Deputy Clark gave him said he knew exactly what had transpired, but maybe he wouldn’t take the time to search the place. Possibly he’d think the men had stashed their guns somewhere out of town. One could only hope.
Chapter Nineteen
“What’ll we do, Luke?” Faith asked, her gaze searching his face.
The worry in her eyes twisted his gut. She glanced over to Colton asleep on floor. Poor kid was exhausted and had been unable to keep his eyes open a moment longer. She’d brought Luke clean clothes as well as soap and water.
“You’re taking Colton to the hotel and getting some supper, and then you’re going to bed. I can’t believe you rode all the way from Y Knot with the men. I’m sure they pushed their horses—”
“What’re you talking about?” she said, cutting him off. “You did the same for me when I was in trouble. I’m not any different from you. I love you, Luke. I’ll never abandon you.”
His jaw muscles strained as he gritted his teeth. Being locked up had hobbled him completely. At least the last time Faith had been in danger he could do something to help.
She was right. He’d ride to the ends of the earth for her, without question. He guessed he shouldn’t sell her short. Her tone, almost angry, sounded the way he felt. He hated having her see him like this. Locked up, unshaven, in need of a bath. And worse, over the past few days, his astonishment over being accused and placed behind bars had turned into apprehension. He never would have believed this farce could have gone so far. Would a judge really put him on trial for murder? What was Jack thinking? Surely he didn’t actually believe he’d killed that man. Now, after so many days, he’d begun to doubt. Here he was dragging down the McCutcheon name—again. Just like when he was a kid. Old hurts and memories surged in his mind.
“Joe should be back from his honeymoon any day,” he said to reassure her. “Things’ll change as soon as he arrives. He’ll be a word of reason in this crazy town. At least, we’ll have one of the townsfolk on our side.” He’d better be on my side. “Joe’ll help the boys dig around and uncover the truth. Until then, we just have to be patient.” Patient? Doing that would be much more difficult than he would have ever believed.
She blew out a breath, disturbing a few loose hairs that had escaped her ponytail. Her dusty, worn clothes were something he wasn’t used to seeing.
Reaching through the bars, she cupped his whiskered cheek. Her worried gaze captured his. “I have a very bad feeling about this. What will Joe accomplish that others haven’t? I don’t know. We shouldn’t pin too much hope on him.”
Does Deputy Clark have something to do with Jack’s obstinacy?
“This reminds me of when you traveled to Kearney to clear my name,” Faith whispered. “For weeks, my life spun out of control. I thought all was lost. Ward was determined to make sure we never married. You were shot, rode out wounded, and weak from the loss of blood. Let me take care of you now.”
Her downy-soft voice was a balm to his ragged nerves. In her eyes were truth and love. Needing to feel closer, he cupped her hand with his, pressing her warmth more firmly to his cheek. After a moment, he gently pulled away and paced the length of the cell. “I don’t know this town, Faith, and who’s friend and who’s not. I didn’t kill that man, but somebody did. Since I’m the one locked up, a killer is walking free. I don’t like to think of you and Colton in danger. I’d rather you take him home. That’s the prudent thing to do.”
Her shoulders pulled back. “I won’t.”
“Faith, please, be reasonable. Think of Holly. She’s so young. And Dawn must be wondering where her mommy is.” His throat constricted, thinking of his little honey pies. The bars, the miles, and the uncertain future had him missing them more than ever.
“The men will keep us safe.”
He stepped onto his cot and looked at the darkening sky. Behind the jail was an open field. All he could see was the road leading away, and some trees with what looked like a dilapidated chicken coop. The first star of the evening twinkled over the aspens. He wiped his hand across his moist brow, thinking about a cold bath. This was the hottest July he could remember. He cringed to think of how he must smell.
“What are you thinking?”
He stepped down and returned to the bars between them. “Until I’m out of here,” he said low, glancing back at the window and then at the door. “I’m assigning Smokey to stay with you at all times. I don’t trust Jack Jones, his deputy, or anyone else.”
Her eyes opened wide. “Luke.”
“Roady needs to lead the investigation, or else I’d give him the job. Smokey’s the right man. He’ll stay in your room, as well, Faith. I don’t want you to argue with me over this. My mind is set.”
She huffed out a sound of disagreement.
Deputy Clark came into the room carrying Luke’s supper tray.
Jack Jones was by his side. His flushed face looked like he’d been working out in the heat, and his shirt had sweat rings under his arms.
Luke couldn’t fathom what he’d been doing all day.
“Jack!” Faith blurted. “How could you? How dare you lock Luke behind bars? He’s innocent. This is low, even for you.”
Colton sat up and rubbed his eyes. He climbed to his feet when h
e saw Jack and the deputy.
Jack halted in his tracks.
Deputy Clark, his face as hard as stone, took the round key ring from his pocket and unlocked Luke’s cell. He handed Luke his meal and relocked the door.
“Mrs. McCutcheon,” Jack began, a waver in his voice. “I had no choice. We have an eyewitness who was with her husband when Luke killed him.”
“This whole thing is absurd! Luke’s no murderer!” She planted her fisted hands on her hips. “I’m ashamed of you.”
Jack grasped the back of his neck, his mouth a tight, hard line. “Mrs. Van Gleek pointed out Luke without any help from anyone. She didn’t even know his name. Locking him up is the law. I can’t go against procedure just because I’ve known Luke for years. Brandon would never bend the law like that.” He tapped the star pinned to his vest. “I have a duty to uphold. Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot of time to listen to all your grievances. I’m sure I’ll hear enough of them when I see the others from Y Knot.” He actually looked around when he said that, as if he expected the ranch hands to appear out of thin air.
Luke hadn’t seen the men since they’d left a couple of hours ago. Good. The less conspicuous they were, the more they might find out on the sly.
Faith crossed the small room to where Jack stood. “Who’s this woman accusing my husband? How long has she lived here? What do you know about her?”
Jack’s mouth hung open.
“You’re new to town, Jack.” Faith’s back was ramrod straight. “You couldn’t possibly know much.”
“It’s Sheriff Jones, to you,” the deputy interrupted.
When Clark addressed Faith and stepped closer, Luke grasped the bars on either side of his face, gripping them with all he had. Razor-sharp heat shot through him, and he realized he was totally helpless to protect his wife.
Colton lunged forward between Clark and his mother, his arms close to his chest and hands fisted.
“Stay away from her!” Luke said low, feeling as if he would commit murder if he wasn’t behind bars.
Montana Promise (McCutcheon Family Series Book 10) Page 8