Rogue Gunslinger & Hunting Down the Horseman

by B. J Daniels

  “Have you met him?” Chloe asked McCall, clearly still skeptical.

  “I have,” the sheriff said. “I found him to be quite delightful.” She looked to TJ, who nodded before picking up her coffee cup. She could feel both of her sisters watching her intently.

  “I hope that answers any concerns you have about the man. But your sister told me that you’ve been getting threatening letters from one of your fans,” the sheriff said, meeting TJ’s gaze.

  She nodded. “I was worried Silas might be the fan.”

  “But you’re not now?” McCall asked.

  “No, I’m not.” After hearing what the sheriff had to say, she realized she could trust her instincts about Silas. Her new instincts that told her he wasn’t True Fan. Not that he wasn’t dangerous to her. Just the thought of him made her heart beat a little faster.

  “Well if you need anything, you know where my office is,” McCall said as she got to her feet.

  TJ said she did and was glad when Chloe walked the sheriff to the door.

  “Well?” Annabelle said the moment their older sister was out of earshot. “What happened?”

  “Nothing happened.”

  Annabelle rolled her eyes. “How did you end up at his cabin?”

  Chloe had returned after seeing the sheriff out. “Yes, how did that happen?”

  TJ recounted seeing the mailbox by the road and wandering back into the woods, curious about him. “I didn’t realize how far I’d gone and the blizzard was getting worse. I fell and twisted my ankle. Fortunately, he helped me into this cabin. By then it was snowing too hard to drive out so he suggested I stay the night.”

  “Why do I suspect there is more to the story?” Annabelle asked.

  “He was very nice, charming actually, and he fed me homemade stew and bread that he’d made and we played cards until it got late.”

  Her sisters exchanged a look. “Have you forgotten that you thought he was True Fan?” Chloe demanded.

  “No,” TJ said. “And at first I thought he was. But none of that matters now. You heard the sheriff. There is nothing to worry about with him.” They both looked at her as if they weren’t convinced. “Isn’t it possible that he’s just a nice man who still wants to help me?”

  “What does that mean?” Chloe asked.

  “He’s determined to help me find True Fan,” she said with a shrug.

  “Seriously?” Annabelle asked, eyes widening. “He is awfully good-looking if you like that big, muscled, chisel-jaw kind of man.”

  “I would be very careful,” Chloe said. “Even if he isn’t True Fan, this man could still be dangerous.”

  “You mean dangerous to someone as naive as me?” TJ said, bristling because she’d figured that out all on her own—but wasn’t about to admit it.

  Her sister seemed to take her time answering as if taking care with her words. “You haven’t dated since Marc. That’s all I’m saying.”

  She wanted to argue that Chloe had no idea how many men she’d dated, since they didn’t live in the same city. But she saved her breath. Her sister was right. She hadn’t dated since Marc. He’d been her college boyfriend. Her first. Her last. Their senior year at university, he’d gotten a job with a defense contractor working in high-risk countries.

  The plan had been that she would kick-start her writing career and they would get married after he had an adventure and made a lot of money. She hadn’t liked the plan, but Marc had been so excited, saying he needed to live a little dangerously before he could settle down. He’d been killed in Iraq when the company office where he worked was bombed.

  “I’m only saying that I don’t think you want another man who lives that close to the edge,” Chloe said quietly.

  TJ felt tears burn her eyes. Her sister was right. Silas Walker had gone into a dangerous profession and even volunteered to go undercover to weed out dirty cops. Just as Marc had felt the need for adventure in danger zones in the world.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, more to herself than to her sisters. “I won’t make the same mistake again.”

  A knock at the door relieved the tension in the kitchen. “I’ll get it,” Annabelle said, jumping to her feet.

  TJ stayed where she was. She couldn’t help thinking about how gentle and caring Silas had been. And yet from the first she’d sensed that darkness, that violence, that menace. Was she doomed to be attracted to men who liked to risk their lives?

  Annabelle returned on a gust of cold air. TJ had her back to the door but she saw from Chloe’s expression that something was wrong.

  “Who was that at the door?” Chloe asked.

  “It was Carol again from the post office,” Annabelle said.

  TJ didn’t need to turn around. She knew without seeing the letter in her sister’s hand. True Fan had sent her another threat.

  * * *

  SILAS DROVE AROUND Whitehorse street by street, looking for the house where he’d picked up the reams of paper at the garage sale. Whitehorse was only ten blocks square so it didn’t take long to find the house where he remembered stopping at the garage sale.

  He pulled up out front, got out and started toward the front door. As he did, he saw a front curtain twitch. A moment later, he knocked at the door and waited. He knocked again.

  A small elderly woman opened the door a crack. “Yes?” she asked.

  “Hello.” He smiled, but she still looked wary. He couldn’t remember the woman who had sold him the reams of papers, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t this one. The house had been for sale because the owner was moving into the rest home as he recalled.

  “Who is it, Mother?” said a younger voice from behind the woman.

  “I don’t know.”

  The door opened wider as another hand appeared on the edge of it.

  “Can I help you?” asked a woman a good thirty years younger.

  “I was looking for the woman who used to live in this house,” Silas said. “She had a garage sale here last summer?”

  The younger of the two nodded. “Melinda Holmes. She moved into the rest home.” She pointed down the street.

  “Thank you.” He started to turn away.

  “You bought something at her garage sale?” the woman asked, clearly curious why he would be looking for Melinda Holmes about dealing with an item from last summer’s garage sale.

  “Reams of paper,” he said, turning back.

  “Oh.” She looked disappointed. Had she been hoping for a chest with a secret in it? Or something of more value that he might have wanted to return? Whatever she’d been hoping for, those hopes dashed, she closed the door.

  Glancing at his cell phone, he saw that it was still early. He drove over to the house where he’d dropped off TJ earlier. Getting out, he walked to the door, wondering what kind of reception he would get not only from her, but also from her sisters.

  He climbed the stairs to the porch and knocked. The young woman who opened the door was blonde and blue-eyed. There was just enough resemblance that he knew she was one of TJ’s sisters.

  “Hi,” he said, and smiled. “I was hoping to see—” Just then another sister appeared, followed by the one he’d come for. His smile broadened as TJ came into view.

  “Silas,” she said, sounding a little breathless as if she’d just raced down from upstairs. There was an awkward moment where they all stood there looking at him. The sisters were definitely giving him the once-over.

  “Please, come in,” TJ said, shooing her sisters aside. He wiped his feet and, removing his Stetson, stepped into the house. “I don’t think you’ve met my sisters. This is Chloe, who’s an investigative reporter, and Annabelle, who is—”

  “Just Annabelle now,” the young woman said.

  “I was going to say, just nosy,” TJ finished.

  All three were beautiful alone, but together they ma
de quite a sight.

  “This is Silas Walker,” TJ said almost shyly.

  He nodded to the other two women. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Can we offer you some coffee?” Annabelle asked.

  “Thanks, but I’m fine. I just came by to tell your sister...” his gaze went to TJ “...that I found that house we talked about. The owner is in the local rest home. Melinda Holmes. Do you know her?”

  “She should, since you used to steal the apples out of her tree on the way home from school,” Annabelle said with a laugh. “I wonder if she’ll remember you.”

  “Isn’t that the woman who beat you with the broom as you were climbing her fence?” Chloe asked.

  “Ah, the memories,” TJ said as she reached for her coat. “I’d love to stay and reminisce but I have to find True Fan.”

  “If you haven’t already found him,” Chloe said under her breath.

  Silas merely smiled, said how nice it was to meet them and TJ closed the door behind them. He saw that she’d showered and changed into jeans, boots and a sweater under her coat. Her blond hair was brushed and now floated like a golden cloud around her shoulders.

  “I apologize for my sisters,” she said. “They’re...protective.”

  He chuckled. “You should be thankful for that.” Glancing over at her, he grinned. “You really did steal apples from this woman we’re going to see?”

  “Let’s hope the reason she’s in the rest home is because she has forgotten the past,” TJ joked.

  “Not too far into the past though,” he said as he opened the passenger side of his pickup. “We need to know who all she sold paper to.”

  * * *

  THE REST HOME sat on a hill overlooking Whitehorse and the Milk River drainage. The valley was covered in trees that seemed to follow the river northward. Silas parked and started to get out, when she stopped him.

  “I got another letter.”

  “Let’s see it.” He heard the fear in her voice, but when he turned to look at her, she looked deceptively calm. However, as she opened her purse and removed the envelope, he saw that her fingers were trembling.

  Silas carefully opened the envelope and pulled out the letter, trying not to touch it more than necessary. He wondered if TJ had taken the same precautions or if all three of the sisters had manhandled it. Not that he thought there would be fingerprints on it. With all the crime shows on television now, only a fool would send an anonymous threatening letter and leave behind evidence of the sender.

  Tessa Jane,

  I had such expectations for you and your books. I am sick over what has become of you—let alone what you have dragged your characters through. I knew you would corrupt Constance. For a while, she was the best of you.

  Not anymore. That she could kill Durango... That YOU could kill him. He was the good in Constance. How could you not see that? You took a beautiful thing and ruined it.

  I told you I was your only True Fan until the end. Well, I’m afraid this has to end. I can’t let you write another book. I’m sorry, but you’ve abused your talent, and for what? Fame? Fortune?

  You’ve been playing God with your characters—and your readers.

  It’s time to pay the piper.

  * * *

  SILAS FELT FURY roiling up deep inside him. Who was this crazy person? And more important, just how dangerous was True Fan?

  He looked over at TJ. She’d gone pale, as if remembering each word of the letter as he was reading it. He told himself it didn’t matter how crazy this person was or if they were serious about their threats of violence; they had to be stopped. He could tell that TJ was terrified. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like for her to try to write another book with this hanging over her.

  “All right if I keep this for now?” he asked as he carefully put the letter back into the envelope. She nodded as if she wanted nothing to do with it. “When is your next book due?”

  “Four months from now. And no, I have nothing done on it,” she said. “I might have to buy back the contract—if my publisher will let me.”

  He swore under his breath. “Let’s hope Melinda Holmes has some answers for us,” he said as he opened his door.

  * * *

  TJ HAD FELT sick to her stomach since opening the letter from True Fan. But having Silas helping her made her feel stronger as they entered the rest home. She’d been surprised that he’d moved so quickly on this. She hadn’t expected him to go in search of the garage sale house so fast.

  But she was thankful that he had and that he was taking the threats seriously. Once inside the rest home they were directed to Melinda Holmes’s room. Unfortunately it was empty. A passing nurse told them to try the dining room.

  They found her sitting by the window staring out at the winter day. TJ barely remembered her from the broom-swinging woman who’d pounded her backside as she scrambled over the wooden fence behind the Holmeses’ house.

  “Mrs. Holmes?” Silas asked. No reaction. “Mrs. Holmes?” he said a little louder.

  The elderly gray-haired woman turned from the window. “I’m not deaf,” she snapped, her narrowed gaze going from Silas to TJ. “I know you,” she said in a hoarse voice as her gaze bored into TJ. “You’re one of those wild Clementine girls. You’ve been in my apples again, haven’t you?”

  “You grow the best apples in the valley,” she said as she took a seat next to her. “This is my friend Silas.”

  Melinda’s gaze shifted to him. “You stealing my apples too?”

  “No, ma’am. I wouldn’t do that.”

  His answer seemed to satisfy her. “So what do you want, then?”

  “You’re the woman who used to own the store here in town that sold paper supplies, right?” Silas said.

  “That was years ago.”

  “I bought some reams of paper from you at your garage sale last summer.”

  She looked from him to TJ as if to say, “So?”

  “Do you remember who all you sold the paper to?” he finished.

  She looked suspicious. “Why? There wasn’t a thing wrong with that paper. Might have been a little discolored, that’s all. Some of it got wet, but it dried out just fine.”

  “It was great paper. In fact,” Silas continued, “I’d like to see if I can find more of it. I thought some of the people who bought it might make me a deal.”

  Melinda Holmes seemed to appreciate a man who liked a good deal. “A lot of people were at that garage sale. You expect me to remember after all this time?” She huffed at that. “There was that one woman from the school. She bought a few reams. Probably all gone now since she said she was going to give it to the school district to use.”

  “You don’t remember her name?” TJ asked.

  “Never knew it,” she snapped without looking at her. Her face was set in a grim line and for a moment TJ thought that was all they were going to get.

  “Then there was Nellie,” the elderly woman said as if there hadn’t been a break in the conversation. “She bought my bowl set. It had belonged to my mother.” The woman bit her lower lip for a moment looking as if she might cry, before she said, “And there was that maddening Dot.” She shook her head. “That woman has always annoyed me since she was a child. And that one fella... Sulky and kind of creepy as a boy—you know who I’m talking about,” she said, turning to TJ. “He used to follow you girls home every day from school. He seemed to favor you.”

  “Tommy Harwood.” TJ had known who she was referring to right away even though she hadn’t realized that he’d followed them every day from school. She’d only caught him at it a few times.

  “That’s all I can remember,” Melinda said, clearly finished with them. She turned back to the window.

  TJ and Silas rose and left. “For someone with a bad memory she did well, I’d say,” he said with a laugh. “You know these peopl
e she was talking about?” She nodded as they climbed into the pickup. “Could one of them be True Fan? Maybe this creepy kid who used to follow you home?”

  “Maybe. I think I heard he lives by the railroad tracks on the way out of town,” she said. “But he wouldn’t be home now. He works at the auto shop. But Nellie should be home. Do you want to try her?”

  Lanell “Nellie” Doll answered the door, opening it only a few inches. Still TJ saw enough of the inside to see that the woman’s mother, who she lived with, was much like TJ’s own grandmother—a hoarder.

  “What are you doing here?” Nellie asked suspiciously.

  “I stopped by to make sure you got the book I signed for you,” TJ said.

  “I did.” She looked at Silas, clearly still waiting for an explanation.

  “That wasn’t the only reason we stopped by,” Silas said. “Last summer I bought some paper at a garage sale from Mrs. Holmes. She thought you might have bought some as well and might have some extra still.”

  “Paper?”

  “Mrs. Holmes sold it by the ream.”

  “If I bought some, I can’t remember,” Nellie said. “I probably used it up by now.”

  “I’m sorry, I should have introduced my friend,” TJ said. “This is Silas Walker. He’s a writer. Along with inexpensive paper, he was looking for a good manual typewriter.”

  “And Mrs. Holmes thought I might have that as well?” Nellie asked, sounding indignant. “That old woman should mind her own business.”

  “If you do have either, I would be happy to buy them,” Silas put in.

  Nellie was shaking her head. “I don’t have any paper or a typewriter to sell. I’m busy so if that’s all...”

  “Have you started reading my book?” TJ asked before Nellie could close the door in her face. She was odd and secretive enough that she could definitely be True Fan. Not to mention unfriendly.

  Nellie rolled her eyes with an impatient sigh. “If you must know, I don’t care for your books. But my niece knows that we went to school together. Yesterday was my birthday so she thought it would make a nice gift to have you sign it for me.”