Under a Texas Star

by Alison Bruce

  She led Amabelle along Church Road and down Reynold's Lane. She paused in front of one of the smaller homes and pointed out some flowers. It was a clandestine move to check if Baker was following.

  He wasn't, but he stared after them.

  Resisting the urge to hurry, she led Amabelle at a strolling pace until they turned the corner onto The Avenue.

  "Thank you," Amabelle said. "Not that I can't handle Gabe..."

  Marly snorted. "Right. Let's go find your friends."

  Amabelle's friends had moved on, and despite her assurances that she could handle him, Amabelle showed no interest in risking another encounter with Baker.

  "I'll take you to your brother," Marly said.

  "No. He is far too busy for me. I'm happy to join you on your rounds."

  "I'm far too busy," Marly insisted. "I'll find your friend, Miss Kate, and bring her to you."

  Amabelle sighed. "Fine. Thank you."

  Marly set off, relieved the young lady wouldn't be following her around all day. She couldn't understand Amabelle's interest anyway.

  She found Kate O'Brian and her young gentleman friends in the church yard.

  "Miss Amabelle is feeling a little unwell." Marly lowered her voice. "A feminine matter."

  Kate bid the men farewell and followed Marly.

  "I have a confession, Miss Kate. Miss Amabelle isn't really unwell. She just needed to get away from Mr. Baker. I know it's none of my business, but she seems to be afraid of the man."

  Kate's expression was one of concern.

  "I can tell your brother is sweet on Miss Amabelle," Marly continued. "I'd like you to know I have no intention of cutting him out. Miss Amabelle is above my touch. I know that."

  Kate stifled a laugh. "Actually, Deputy Landers, I don't think Shea should marry Amabelle. I love her dearly. I just don't believe they are wel1 suited." She frowned. "As for Mr. Baker, I used to think he was just the sort of man Amabelle needed. He dotes on her. He would indulge her every whim and would never have to count the cost. Then Marshal Strothers came along."

  "I heard she used to meet him on the sly."

  Kate stopped sharply. "Heard from whom?"

  Marly shrugged. "Perhaps heard is inaccurate. The information just sort of turned up in the course of the murder investigation. I've heard nothing slanderous against your friend. My guess is that Mr. Baker started showing another side of himself after Marshal Strothers showed up. A jealous side."

  Kate nodded. "Shea and the other boys never concerned him. He was in no hurry and he knew they were no threat."

  "Was Marshal Strothers a threat?'

  "I don't think Amabelle was in love with him, if that's what you mean. He was handsome though, and Amabelle liked to think she had him wrapped around her little finger." She paused. "Whatever Amabelle was thinking, it was obvious that Mr. Baker thought Marshal Strothers was a threat. He started acting as territorial as a skunk."

  "Just as well he didn't see your brother as a threat then."

  "Shea can take care of himself."

  "So could Marshal Strothers" Marly said.

  Kate blanched.

  "And so can I," Marly added with a grin.

  Kate's eyes widened. "What have you got in mind?"

  With an inclination of her head, Marly suggested they walk on. "I want to give Mr. Baker a new object of jealousy. You and I know that I'm not the right man for Miss Amabelle, but I've got a feeling that Mr. Baker already sees me as a threat. Maybe it's the badge. You could help me out by pretending you thought I was a serious suitor, and perhaps by letting your brother know that I don't mean to tread on his toes. This is for Mr. Baker's benefit only."

  They crossed the road and Marly helped Kate onto the boardwalk, as befitted the gentleman she pretended to be.

  "This could be fun," Kate said, patting Marly's arm. "I will help you. However, I don't think I'll say anything to Shea unless I have to. It might do him some good to see more of Amabelle's flirtatious side." She paused. "If I could make a suggestion, Deputy Landers…"

  "Please do."

  "If you want to be convincing as a suitor, try sprucing yourself up a bit."

  "Yes, Miss Kate."

  They rounded the corner and Kate slowed.

  "Something else, Miss Kate?"

  "Amabelle is frightened of Gabe Baker. She's said as much. It's a feeling she gets around him. He doesn't actually cross the line, but..."

  "But he makes her feel like he might."

  "Yes. She doesn't like being alone with him. The trouble is, she's known him all her life. Her brother trusts him. Her aunt trusts him. It has always been assumed they would marry."

  "And I bet no one has asked her if she wants to."

  "Exactly."

  Once again, Marly was subjected to one of Kate's searching examinations. She could just feel the questions welling up in the young woman's mind.

  "Your friend is waiting," Marly said.

  When Jase finally extricated himself from the business meeting, he found Marly gazing in the window of Quinton's General Store.

  Looking over her shoulder, he said, "Missin' your skirts?"

  Marly's only answer was a disgusted expression.

  He shrugged. "Since it's quiet, why don't we go for a ride?"

  "They'll brand us sinners for sure," she replied, following him to the office. "It's the Sabbath. Good Christians don't ride on Sunday."

  "We've got a duty to uphold. To serve and protect―even on a Sunday."

  "And that's why we're going riding?"

  Jase opened the office door and ushered her inside. "That's what we'll tell anyone who asks. Since when have you been so particular?"

  There was no answer. Marly had gone to their quarters.

  Minutes later, she returned wearing her chaps and buckling on her gun belt. "You going like that?"

  He was wearing his best trousers and a white shirt.

  Returning to their room, he changed into something more appropriate, then they set off out of town, riding southeast.

  As soon as they were in open country, he challenged her to a race. Later, he had Marly practice her marksmanship from the back of a horse.

  Trouble wasn't too thrilled.

  "It's all right," she said after she was thrown to the ground.

  Holding the reins, she tried to calm the jittery horse. "Okay, I'm not crazy about the noise either. But if you don't calm down, you idiotic animal, I'm going to nick your ear. And it will probably be an accident."

  Jase bit back a chuckle. "He'll get used to the noise in time."

  After an hour of practice, Trouble was better at keeping still and Marly was better at compensating. Both were tired and fed up, and Jase was tempted to suggest they rest a spell before heading back to town.

  He and Marly could sit in the shade. Maybe she'd fall asleep with her head on his shoulder. Maybe she would tuck herself up against him and he'd have to put an arm around her, just to make her comfortable. If she woke up and turned her face up toward his, maybe their lips would meet. Then again, maybe he'd been alone with Marly long enough for one day.

  "Time to get back to town, brat. We've got a patrol to walk and supper to make."

  Over Sunday breakfast, Egan had invited Jase and Marly out to the Lazy-E ranch the next day to question his men. In doing so, he forced Baker to relent and allow the law on his property.

  Monday morning, Jase made use of the offer and headed out, sure that Locke had killed Strothers and almost as sure that the man had been hired to do so. Matt Egan was the best bet, but Jase had to establish a connection between the two men.

  Circumstantial evidence had piled up. Locke was a knife fighter. Since coming out west, he had learned to handle a handgun well enough to get by. He wasn't a marksman by any means and he preferred hand-to-hand combat if he had to fight. But he was athletic enough to have done the killing.

  Rumor had it, Locke came west after killing a man. Other accounts gave him a more various criminal career, though he w
as not known for being a bruiser. In fact, he tended to avoid fights, but if he got into one, he'd win―by fair means or foul.

  Jase planned to interview the man directly. To be honest, he was inclined to believe the bad over the good in Locke's case, since he'd been part of the group that attacked Marly.

  Jase needed to get his own take on the man.

  However, before he could talk to Locke, he had to find him.

  When Jase told her he was heading out to the ranches without her, Marly wanted to argue, but he made it clear she had to stay in town.

  "Don't go getting' it into your head to ride out and meet me," he warned. "And don't go off on your own."

  After what had happened last time, she agreed.

  When he was gone, she thought of the duties that were expected of her. For the day, she was the law in town. She was to make the rounds, looking reasonably clean, tidy and armed. She also had to take care of her usual chores.

  After currying and feeding the horses, sweeping the office and cleaning out the ashes in the stove, she had a head-to-toe sponge bath and dressed for the day. Then she took her first walk about town, stopping at the bank to pass the time with Mick.

  Afterward, Marly headed to the hotel.

  Nellie poured her a cup of coffee. "On your own today, Deputy Landers?"

  Nellie was one of the few townspeople who used Marly's new title without making it sound like a joke.

  "Yes, Miss Nellie. Marshal Strachan is interviewing ranch hands about the late Ellery Strothers."

  "Seems like a quiet day."

  "Seems so. I'll bet you're kept pretty busy though."

  This wasn't just an idle comment on Marly's part. Her own varied job experience had given her a keen appreciation for the amount of work needed to keep a hotel and restaurant running. So far as she had seen, Nellie was the only one doing it.

  "If you don't mind me asking, who runs the hotel?"

  Nellie wiped down the table. "We're currently between managers. There's Cookie in the back. Me out here, and then there's Mrs. Jones. She cleans the rooms and takes the desk overnight."

  "Who owns the place?"

  "That would be Mr. Egan and Mr. Baker. They bought it from the guy they ran out of town a few years back." She stopped her busywork and gave Marly a quizzical look. "Anything else, Deputy?"

  "Well, you could tell me what Cookie has made today that's edible."

  Nellie laughed. "The sweet rolls and chili are always good."

  "I'll have the roll."

  A minute later, Nellie returned with a small plate dwarfed by a huge sweet roll. "You got the last one."

  Thanking her, Marly said, "It doesn't seem very business-like for Mr. Egan and Mr. Baker to let this place go unmanaged. Not like the gentlemen at all."

  Nelly shrugged. "One or the other comes in regularly to do the books. They've been having trouble keeping anyone, especially since Marshal Strothers arrested Mr. Chalmers."

  "Mr. Chalmers?"

  "Pete Chalmers. A really nice man. Our last manager. Seems he robbed a bank a few years back and there was a wanted poster with his face on it." Nellie leaned down to refill Marly's cup. "Folks thought it was rather churlish of Marshal Strothers to serve the warrant, seeing as Mr. Chalmers had turned over a new leaf. Mr. Egan tried to intervene, but Marshal Strothers was having none of it."

  Nellie left Marly with her coffee, roll and something more to think about.

  When she returned to the office, Marly looked up the file on Pete Chalmers. It was a half inch thick.

  Prior to living a blameless life in Fortuna, Chalmers had a brief career as an outlaw. For a couple of years, starting immediately after General Lee's surrender, Chalmers had ridden with a gang of former Confederate soldiers. Their one big heist was a bank robbery that went bad. After escaping custody, he disappeared―until Strothers found him at the Fortuna Hotel.

  What if Chalmers had escaped custody again? Would he come back and take his revenge against Strothers? Was he the one who hired Locke to kill the marshal?

  She clamped her lips into a hardened line.

  Maybe Arnie could help her.

  Jase returned to the office, greeted by a meat pie, a bowl of sliced cucumber, a warm apple pie and no deputy.

  He cursed beneath his breath. "She never listens."

  Then he waited.

  By the time Marly returned, he'd cleaned up and put coffee on.

  "That smells wonderful," she said. "You wouldn't believe how much bad coffee I had today."

  "I would. I've been doing this a lot longer than you."

  Marly hung up her guns. "My coffee is awful. The hotel's coffee is a bit weak, but okay. The Haven's is strong and bitter, while The Oasis' coffee is good. And yours is even better."

  "Why, thank you," he said, bowing.

  She set the plates out and carved up the pie. "How was your day?"

  He groaned. "Wearin'. I'll say this for Egan and Baker, they inspire loyalty in their men. None is inclined to share anythin' they think might reflect badly on their bosses or their compadres. I'm used to it. There's ways of getting folks to talk. But you know that, don't you?"

  "I'm good at listening," she admitted. "I heard something that might be important today."

  She told him about Pete Chalmers.

  "After Nellie told me about him," she said, "I chatted with Mr. Riley. He told me Chalmers was well liked, a good boss and manager. He didn't think he was the type to jump out and knife a guy. Wasn't sure Chalmers was up to that kind of thing anymore, though he thought he might inspire someone else to do so."

  "Really."

  "Not intentionally, but out of misplaced loyalty. Mr. Riley said Chalmers was a fellow veteran. A sergeant, actually."

  Jase's eyes widened.

  She shrugged. "I did wonder if it was my sergeant. Sarge is about the right height, weight, coloring and age, according to the wanted poster."

  "But?"

  "But Mr. Riley's physical description was a bit more complete and it's not likely. I'm kind of relieved, I suppose."

  Jase understood how she didn't want Sarge to be languishing in jail. Though at least she would have known where he was.

  "Point is," she said, "Strothers made a long list of enemies. Locke could have been hired by anyone."

  Early the next morning, Jase rode out to Baker's ranch, promising Marly an evening ride and telling her to keep up the good work. This time he was blessed with good luck. He found Locke and another man mending fences on the stretch adjoining the Cleary property, a dairy and feed farm.

  The air was still cool, but the men had stripped off their shirts. Locke wore a singlet that showed off beefy muscles. His friend wore red combinations, sleeves pushed up, sweat stains darkening the armpits and center back.

  Both men paused to see who was riding up.

  Ignoring Jase, the man in the combinations directed Locke to hold the post while he hammered it down. They filled the hole and tamped the earth, Locke's friend testing the post for stability.

  Jase waited until they were done.

  "Birke, we still got company," Locke said.

  Birke leaned on the newly sunk post. "What can we do for you, Marshal?"

  He was likely not more than a year or two older than Jase. Sun, wind and the trail had carved deep wrinkles around his eyes. With his big brown eyes rimmed with dark pouches, he resembled a hound.

  "I'd like to get a sense of where you were the day Strothers was killed," Jase said. "Who you saw, who saw you. I'm buildin' up a picture. I might have a couple more questions after that, but let's start there. Which one of you would like to go first?"

  Locke and Birke looked at each other.

  With a nod, Birke said, "Don't mind if we keep working, do you? Day's only gonna get hotter."

  "I don't mind."

  Birke directed Locke to dig a hole a few feet down the line.

  "That's the Cleary Farm, ain't it?" Jase began.

  "Yep."

  "And a field of hay."


  "Uh-huh."

  "Strikes me it would be Cleary who would be most interested in keepin' the fence repaired, not Baker."

  "The Cleary boys will be out here to mend the ties after the milking. Mr. Cleary leases this stretch from Mr. Baker in exchange for feed. Gotta make sure there's something left."

  "Sure enough. So where were you that day?"

  Birke stared over the marshal's left shoulder. Then he made eye contact. "Can't remember exactly."

  "Try."

  "It was payday. I probably got drunk. Might have played some cards."

  Jase knew from Tierny and a few of the other men he had talked to that Birke didn't drink whisky and could nurse two beers for a whole night. And he only played poker for chicken stakes. On payday, according to several witnesses, Birke was working. He had made himself popular by volunteering to work most paydays and taking his time off midweek, while his acquaintances recovered from hangovers.

  In other words, Birke was lying.

  "Suppose that means you can't remember what anyone else was doing."

  "Suppose."

  "How well did you know Marshal Strothers?"

  Birke shrugged. "No better than most. He never bothered me and I never bothered him."

  Jase absently picked some dirt from under his thumbnail, letting silence sit between them like a glass waiting to be filled.

  "Well," he said finally, "you don't know me either, or you'd know better than to indulge in foolish lies. Wanna try again?"

  "Maybe I was in town. Maybe I was working. I can't say who I saw or who saw me."

  "Can't? Or won't?"

  "If I can't, I won't." As if handing a stray dog a bone, Birke added, "I don't know that anyone I work with―or for―is guilty of murder."

  "And if you did know, would you tell me?"

  Birke raised tired, sad-dog eyes and nodded slowly.

  "I'll take that as a promise," Jase replied.

  Birke cocked his head toward Locke. "You won't get much more out of him. Baker inspires almost as fierce a loyalty in his men as Egan."

  "You been with him long?"

  "Mr. Baker? Couple of years now. He's got a reputation for asking few questions when he hires a man. That can give a rancher trouble sometimes, but there are some of us that are very grateful for a second chance and it gives us that much more reason to be loyal to the brand."