Montana Promise (McCutcheon Family Series Book 10)

by Caroline Fyffe

  “Luke?”

  Smokey looked tense himself. He’d worked for Luke long enough to know when to be concerned.

  Jack’s Adam’s apple bobbed once. “I was just telling Luke he may be in luck. Got word about a judge. Harrison Wesley is on his way to Y Knot and might be there already.”

  Faith gasped. She turned back and smiled at Luke. “Harrison! Really? That’s wonderful news, isn’t it, Luke?”

  Clark hadn’t looked at Faith once, but his nostrils flared at her reaction. Luke wished she’d thought to keep their friendship to herself.

  With his arms crossed over his chest, the deputy stared back.

  Luke could just imagine what he was thinking.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Roady held the door as Pedro and Shad entered his and Francis’s small hotel room. “Take a seat,” he said quietly. Pedro sat at the foot of Francis’s bed, the covers thrown up haphazardly, while Shad took a chair by the window, the creaking of the old wood the only sound in the room.

  Scents of dried grass, flowers in bloom, and the need for a long summer rain wafted inside. The blissful summer smells were in opposition with the seriousness of the meeting at hand. They’d eaten their breakfast across the street in the restaurant. Luke should be free by now. Out from behind bars and back in Y Knot. They were due some kind of break in the case.

  Wary, Roady glanced at Shad and Pedro and mentally kicked himself for not bringing along more ranch hands.

  After breakfast, Faith had insisted she take Colton for a walk out of town in the hills, somewhere where the boy could get his mind off his pa. The boy was brooding. Hadn’t said more than a few words to any of them, believing this fiasco was his fault. And of course, where she and Colton went, Smokey went too.

  Hopefully they wouldn’t stay away from the jail too long. Luke was tense, and Roady couldn’t blame him in the least. But Roady agreed the walk would be a good diversion. After they’d eaten, Francis went to check the stock. Roady didn’t have a clue about Nick, and doubted Shad knew either. That kid was a livewire.

  “I’m more than worried,” Roady said. “We’ve only ruled out two men from Francis measuring boots he’d seen lying around. This case building is taking too long. By the time we find the real killer, we’ll have one foot in the grave ourselves.”

  Pedro took out his cigarette papers and began to roll a smoke.

  “Anyone have anything new to report? Any baffling sly looks, people who may have any unexplainable cuts or bruises? Things like that.” He knew they didn’t. If anyone came up with something, he reported right away. Roady was pulling at straws. “We gotta find out who made that bloodstained footprint in the cabin.”

  Shad leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “Has anyone done any checking on the money clip? That may be our best clue. Why wait?”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Ask Francis. As soon as he shows up, I’ll get started with Joe’s wife. Anyone see Fox Dancing or Painted Bear Stone last night? Luke says they’re here, but I’ve not seen a trace.”

  “They stay hidden,” Pedro whispered. “I see them, or should I say they let me see them. They make sure no one takes Luke from jail before trial.” He inhaled, held the smoke for a moment, and then let a white trail drift up into his eyes.

  For as much progress as they’d made, the lot of ’em could have just stayed home at the ranch. How was Sally faring? And Gillian? His brand-spanking-new daughter of only a few weeks. Did she miss her pa? He’d hated to leave them so soon after her birth, but with Brandon gone, he hadn’t had a choice. He ached to hold her and Sally too.

  Sally had done so well in labor, hardly making a sound even though the birth lasted over twenty-four hours. That night was the longest of his life. With each hour that passed, his fears had grown. Hayden did his best to keep him sane each time he heard a cry or whimper coming from down the hall, but delivery is a hell only an expectant father can know.

  “Roady?”

  The men looked at him, strange expressions on their faces.

  “Where’d you go, man?” Shad asked.

  “Slipped back to—”

  At that moment, Nick came through the door. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, making his way to the vacant bed to sit. “Heard some talk while I was at the barber.” He motioned to his newly trimmed hair.

  Shad’s face turned stony. “You think you had time for a haircut and shave?”

  Nick scowled back at his brother and ran fingers over his ears. “Sometimes the best place to hear natter is where you’d least expect, like under a barber’s hot towel.”

  Pedro mumbled something, nodding.

  “Anyway, if you’ll let me finish, you just might be patting me on the back. Like I said, my face was hidden under a towel when I heard voices of men in the doorway. They asked how long until the barber would be free. Then one of them said Luke’s name, and my ears perked up.”

  Shad leaned forward.

  Roady held his breath. Nick better not be blowing smoke to get out of trouble for being late. “And?” he prompted. Sometimes Nick had a way of enhancing the story. “Did you see who was talking?”

  Nick glanced around the room, looking each man in the eye. “They dropped their voices, but I heard the word rope and then lynch. That’s when I pretended to sneeze and peeked out.” He sternly raised a brow. “And I want you to know, I almost got my throat cut in the process too. Anyway, the men were Daniel Clevenger and Pink Kelly. They heard Judge Wesley might be on his way. Everyone knows the McCutcheons and Wesley are good friends. They were going on that he’ll release Luke no matter what Mrs. Van Gleek says.”

  If Nick was worried, then they’d better up their game, get to work, real work, and also come up with an alternate plan in case Wesley didn’t arrive in time. Roady squared his shoulders. “I won’t let Luke be lynched.”

  The men watched him in silence.

  “I’m in,” Pedro whispered. “Smokey will be too. And no question about Francis.”

  “And me.” Shad looked at his brother, who nodded.

  Relief washed through Roady. These men were ranchers, not hired guns. He couldn’t expect them to put their lives on the line if they didn’t want to. “Then we need to come up with a plan in case anyone decides to do more than talk.” The guns were still hidden in the ripped-up floorboards of an abandoned house on the outskirts of town. “Time to retrieve our weapons,” he said. “To have on hand. Nick, when Francis gets back, the two of you take care of that. Split them up in these two rooms where we can get to them quickly but where they won’t be found.”

  Nick sat up and glanced around. “Hey, where is Francis?”

  “He’ll be along.”

  Nick scoffed. “With Miss Adair, no doubt.”

  Nick’s sour expression rankled Roady’s nerves.

  “He’s more interested in her than springing Luke,” Nick said.

  “Hold up,” Shad demanded before Roady could get out the words.

  “Did you hear your orders, Nick?” Roady asked, reining in his temper. “I don’t want you complaining you didn’t understand.” Nick was a flirt, where Francis was stalwart and a bit shy. Someday the two might come to blows.

  “Sure I did. I can do the job myself if he don’t show up soon. Probably easier,” he finished, mumbling under his breath. “Just give the go-ahead, and I’ll be happy to.”

  “Right now, I want the two of you to do the chore together. Won’t be easy gettin’ ’em moved without being seen. Clark knows they’re stashed somewhere, and he’s been watchin’.”

  Once they had some firepower, Roady would feel a hell of a lot better, even if hidden away close. Walking around town with the hostility aimed their way was no picnic. They were the good guys, not the bad guys. The sooner Harrison Wesley showed up, the better he’d sleep.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Francis was daydreaming about Ashley when somebody screamed. For one instant, he thought Blanche had gone into the empty schoolhouse and somehow hurt Ash
ley, but then he realized the sound came from the opposite direction. The cry sounded like a female, but it wasn’t Faith. He’d recognize her voice. He started to town with purpose.

  Ashley appeared at his side, breathing hard. She gripped his arm. “I heard someone screaming?”

  “I did too.” He hitched his head. “I was just on my way back. Come with me.” They turned onto a small connecting street. Several small row houses in need of serious repair leaned this way and that. Jack Jones and Deputy Clark had just arrived, evident by the way they gaped around. Daniel Clevenger stood on the porch of one house, the white apron still wrapped around his waist as he held an old woman’s arm.

  She sagged and looked about to faint.

  “That’s Mrs. Lee,” Ashley said quietly by his side. “She’s in her eighties and lives next door. This is Mildred Kane’s house. Since Mr. Lee died, the women have been inseparable. I hope the worst hasn’t happened.”

  They slowly drew closer as others ventured from the main part of town.

  “I went inside when Mildred didn’t answer the door.” Mrs. Lee’s voice wobbled with emotion. “We often looked out for each other. But I found her in the basement. Looks like she fell down the steps.” Her words faded, and she began to cry. “What an awful way to die,” she moaned between sobs. “Falling and hurting yourself all alone.” An agonizing groan escaped her lips. “What will I do without her, Sheriff?” Turning her head, she looked up into Clevenger’s face and then back at the sheriff. “I just don’t know what I’ll do.”

  Ashley and Francis exchanged a look.

  “There’s a dark cloud over this town,” Francis whispered. “I’ll be glad to return to Y Knot.”

  “I have to go to her.” Ashley stepped forward.

  “In a moment.” Francis guided her around a handful of onlookers to the back of the house. They were alone. “I’m sure Jack won’t let me go inside the house if I ask, so I’m not going to,” he whispered.

  “Why would you want to? What could you possibly want to see inside Mrs. Kane’s home? I know you want to clear your boss, but what on earth would this tragedy have to do with that arrest? None of this makes a bit of sense.”

  He counted the few freckles across the bridge of her nose he’d just noticed in the sunshine. “You sure? Two deaths in thirteen days? We don’t know what we don’t know.” He waited for her reaction.

  “She was old, Francis! She missed a step and fell.” Her lips pulled down, and she plunked fisted hands on her hips. “What could be strange about that? I think you’ve let this situation go to your head. You’re running around town like a Pinkerton detective looking for clues—and I believe you’re enjoying yourself.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” he responded, fighting against anger at her words. “Things couldn’t be more serious. Luke needs my help. I’ll do anything I can to find the real killer so he can go free. The McCutcheons have been the only family I’ve ever known. I owe them everything. I’ll not let them down, not if I can do something to help.”

  He hadn’t meant to sound so gruff. Unable to stop himself, he touched the end of her nose. “I’m going in,” he said softly. “Can you wait here?” Still quiet out back, most people, he was sure, had moved on, writing off Mildred’s death to old age and an accident. A clothesline with a few towels drying wasn’t far away and a barrel of water up against the house. Lattice on one side of the back porch was covered in flowering morning glories.

  All seemed peaceful. Voices from the front floated on the air.

  With his foot on the bottom step, she grabbed his arm. “Shouldn’t I go with you?”

  “No. If someone comes, keep them talking, and I’ll try to sneak out a side window. Or hide behind a curtain.” He couldn’t stop a lopsided grin. “I’ll think of something. The law in this town is already fed up with us McCutcheon men prying into their business. I don’t want to add to our troubles.”

  When she nodded, a warm feeling pushed at his chest. Stepping away, he cringed when the door let out a loud screech. Moving even an inch was impossible without the floor squeaking, as well. Jack was already inside, as well as his deputy. Their voices carried easily from the front room. He looked around the kitchen as he listened.

  “She misjudged her steps,” Clark said matter-of-factly. “She was old as the hills. Everyone cashes in their chips eventually.”

  “I don’t know,” Jack replied. “I liked Mildred. She cooked me supper twice a month. Looked like maybe her neck broke.”

  Sunshine streaming through the kitchen window made the room bright. Francis glanced outside at Ashley wringing her hands as she kept watch. Was there anything to find? Any clues?

  “We’ll need another coffin.” Clark’s voice easily carried to the kitchen. “Business has been good for the undertaker this month.” The sound of footsteps stopped. “Who’s gonna pay for the pine box?”

  “Geez, Hoss, you can be a real heel. I’ll pay, if I have to. Just get over to the undertaker and report this.”

  More footsteps and then quiet. Francis hoped Jack had left too.

  Had this been a murder or an accident like everyone thought? Clean dishes were stacked in a rack next to the sink as if they’d been washed, two of everything. On the counter was a half-eaten cake. Other than that, the place was as neat as a pin. Francis crept closer to the front rooms.

  “Did you see anything?”

  So Jack was still here.

  “Why, Sheriff?” Mrs. Lee asked timidly. “Do you think foul play was involved?” A new round of tears sounded and then some shushing noises.

  “No. My job entails asking. When was the last time you spoke with Mildred? Did you see her yesterday?”

  “We always have morning tea. Then again in the afternoon. She came to borrow some eggs to bake a cake.”

  Francis looked over at the chocolate cake.

  “Why was she baking?”

  “Don’t know. She often has company, but she didn’t say anything.”

  Francis walked softly over to the cake, bent down, and gave a good sniff. His empty stomach growled in protest. Would eating a piece be unseemly? With his back against the wall, Francis slipped down the hall and darted into a bedroom. Just as neat as the rest of the house.

  Who would want to hurt Mildred? What kind of a threat could she have posed? Had she seen something and finally decided to talk? Had she questioned the wrong person? Or had her fall been completely innocent and, like the deputy said, the grim reaper came to call? So many unanswered questions.

  More determined than ever, Francis started back the way he’d come, anxious to see Ashley, when he spotted something on the kitchen floor. Squatting, he found several pieces of straw. He held them to his nose. Manure. Not unusual for a town like this. He glanced around. Not uncommon for a man’s house, possibly, or someone who wore boots. But definitely unusual for Mildred’s house. Besides the dishes stacked neatly, the place was clean—spotlessly so. No corrals were around her home either.

  Did the straw come from my own boots? Unlikely. He’d walked a good stretch since leaving the livery. And he’d wiped them clean before entering the church. He should report right away to Roady, but first he’d speak with Neil Huntsman.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Poor Mildred. What a horrible way to die. Sorrow gripped Ashley as she followed Francis up the street, moving quickly to keep up with his long stride. A few bystanders lingered on the boardwalk, glancing toward the old woman’s house, which used to be a haven of hominess, in need of a little upkeep outside but cozy. Deputy Clark stood next to Jed Kasterlee, the hotel proprietor. She heard in passing the undertaker was on his way to collect Mildred’s body.

  “Francis, you never said if you found anything inside her house. You were gone more than a few minutes. Can you share?”

  “Not here. And not until Roady hears what I have to say. The boys were having a meeting this morning, and I went and forgot.”

  “That’s because you were speaking with me in the scho
olhouse.” She responded to his warm smile with one of her own. “Where are you going now, back to the hotel?”

  His jaw clenched and released several times, capturing her attention. He was a good foot and a half taller than she was, and with his wide shoulders, strong, chiseled chin, stately nose and oh-so-expressive eyes and eyebrows, she thought he was just about the most handsome man she’d ever seen. And he seemed so wise for his age. She liked that about him. Most men’s gazes went to one place fast. She’d never noticed him once trying to ogle her in that way.

  “Not quite yet,” he replied. “This money clip is burning a hole in my pocket. The sooner I find out about Huntsman, the better. If the piece is not his, my work is not done.” He stopped his strides and looked down into her eyes. “Do you have to be somewhere? Or do you want to come along? My work could turn into your work too.” He smiled.

  I need to be harvesting my apples, but I really want to spend time with Francis. What will a few more minutes matter? “Yes, now that you’ve involved me in your detective work, I’m curious as well. I hope and pray Tilly’s husband’s not involved.”

  “In what?”

  They both skidded to a halt, and she exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Francis when she realized Jed Kasterlee had caught what she’d said as they passed by his door. She’d had to put the man in his place a time or two over the years, but now he treated her with respect.

  “In letting the secret out about a gathering I’m planning for the coming baby,” Ashley blurted, feeling horrible about being the one who may have blown Francis’s cover. “I’m having a small surprise for the ladies.” She waggled a finger in his direction. “Now, don’t you go and say anything to her or anyone else.”