Chance shook his head, placed his hands on his hips, and widened his stance. “You can count me out. I’m not covering East Street.”
Deborah faced him and frowned. “Not even to save my brothers?”
Chance surveyed her coolly. “We don’t know what the gang plans. We don’t even know for sure if they have your brothers. Besides, I signed up to help break them out of a Mexican prison, not to take on the Andrews Gang. The smart thing is to go after the sheriff and bring her and the posse back. They can handle this better than we can.”
Fritz spoke before she had a chance. “No. We have to act now. The location may be here instead of Mexico, but we still have a job to do.”
Deborah placed a hand on Chance’s arm and searched his face. She needed to make him understand. “My father sold guns to Emperor Maximilian and was paid in gold. Karl hid it somewhere, and maybe these men, the Andrews Gang, heard about it, broke Curt and Karl out, to find the location. What else would they be doing with my brothers?”
“Fritz couldn’t tell who it was,” Chance said.
“It’s them. I’d stake my life on it,” Fritz shot back.
Chance walked away a few steps and then back, his agitation evident in every step, coming to a stop in front of her brother. “Where is the gold, Fritz?”
Her brother’s eyes went flat, and he shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine. You all saw where it was last, under the flat rock. I’m sure Lydia led the sheriff to it—maybe they still have it in their possession.”
Klint made a sound, half cough and half snort and cleared his throat. “Fritz, you told us that was the town’s gold.”
Deborah’s mouth gaped open, and she shot a sideways glance to Chance, who had gone very still, before turning her attention back to her brother.
Fritz’s eyes became hooded. “I lied so Lydia would tell the sheriff. The gold needed moving. If Curt and Karl were killed, at least Juárez’s men would not get the gold.”
Chance pushed past Klint and grabbed Fritz’s arm. “You, fool. You’ve put the sheriff and Lydia’s lives in danger.”
Fritz jerked away. “I didn’t know those men would come here, to Brokken.”
Deborah’s heart sank. “If they don’t find the hidden money, they’ll probably rob the bank. There’s a bit of money there.”
Fritz shrugged. “More than a bit.”
“What do you mean?” Deborah asked.
Fritz lips curled, in a semblance of a smile. “I’ve already told you we did not rob the bank. The town’s money is still there—in the bank.”
Chapter Five
Chance was disgusted with Fritz and his lying. For a moment, he considered mounting his horse and riding away. If it had not been for Deborah, he would have.
She had taken her brother by his arm, shaking her head slightly. “You’re mistaken. I’ve had the bank opened for months. The money is not there.”
Fritz tilted his head, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he tried not to smile. “Did you get the marmalade we left for you?”
A puzzled frown appeared on her brow. “Yes. Sheriff Vic gave it to me.”
Deborah had told Chance how much that small gesture had meant, how she’d been thinking of Christmas and the gifts of oranges from her father. And even though her brothers had robbed the bank, they’d at least left her a reminder of happier times—a jar of orange marmalade.
Fritz allowed the smile to fully form. “I take it you didn’t open the jar?”
Deborah’s cheeks turned a pleasing color of pink. “I had every intention to, that very day. I was going home to make biscuits for the Jennings brothers and share the marmalade with them, but I got sentimental, thinking I’d never see y’all again, and the marmalade would be all I had to remember you by. I put that jar away in my room and used a jar of preserves Grandmother had to feed the Jennings.”
Fritz shook his head. “We were counting on you to open it. At least, eventually. It’s where we hid the gold coins.”
“Oh.” Her mouth rounded before her brows she drew together. “But that was one small jar.”
“The money was converted to gold, and how many jars of marmalade do we keep at the bank?”
Deborah’s eyes widened. “You mean you put gold in all the jars of marmalade, the marmalade you keep in the back? All of those jars have gold coins?”
Neither Fritz or Deborah looked in his direction when Chance snorted. He kicked at the ground, and Klint exchanged a look with him, shaking his head.
Fritz laughed harshly, and then his expression softened toward his sister. “I guess when you reopened the bank you didn’t treat the customers as we did.”
Deborah shook her head. “No. I never set out the marmalade nor bought baked goods from Molly. It’s taken me a while to learn the business and to get out of the red. But I don’t understand. Why hide the money in jars?”
Fritz took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “We couldn’t leave gold lying around, and we had no one to trust.”
Deborah raised her brows, and her spine stiffened. “I beg your pardon.”
Fritz at least had the decency to appear contrite. “I’m sorry, Deb. You’ve always been our kid sister. We didn’t notice you’d grown up and were capable of taking over the business.”
Chance narrowed his eyes at the man whom Deborah still evidently cared about. Her brothers had not had the sense to see her true worth.
Deborah’s face smoothed. “I don’t like it, but I understand.”
Fritz swung an arm in the air, as if he could erase all his mistakes. “Besides, we thought we’d be back inside two weeks, and we left enough money to cover that time. Our plan was to negotiate the price with the emissary, give them the gold and be done with it. We never expected to be thrown into prison.” His expression became soft, and he blinked away tears.
Unexpectedly, Chance was affected. Why he felt sorry for Fritz, he didn’t know. He cleared his throat. “You must have thought there was a possibility you’d never return and figured someone was bound to open a jar and discover the gold.”
“No one thinks they’re going to be imprisoned, perhaps killed.” Fritz’s face cleared, and he shrugged as if it was a minor manner.
Chance nodded. He didn’t know all Fritz had been through, could only imagine what the Mexican prison had been like, and he wasn’t going to press further.
“Speaking of which,” Klint said. “We’ve got to solidify a plan.”
“Why not simply give them what they want? Maybe they’ll go and leave us in peace,” Chance said.
Deborah looked at him as if she didn’t know him. “Are you afraid to fight?”
Chance looked to the ground and scrubbed the toe of his boot in the dirt. “I’ve seen enough killing to last a lifetime.”
“We all have, and it’s not something to take lightly,” Klint said. His voice held sadness, a wistfulness, Chance had never heard from him.
Klint nodded. “I agree. Deborah needs to ride to the ranches in the area, gather up as many men... er, folks as she can find, bring them into town. I’ll go in to warn the people in town, maybe set up some defenses.”
Chance shook his head. “What if some of the men are already there?”
Deborah spoke. “We can be discreet, check around first.”
Fritz took his thumb and pushed his hat back. “I’ll go back to their camp, watch their movements, before heading to North Main.”
Deborah gave Chance a pleading look before she spoke. “We need more help.”
“I’ll ride for the sheriff,” Chance replied.
Deborah began to speak but snapped her mouth shut and turned away.
Klint looked to him, and when he spoke, his voice, too, pleaded. “We need your help, your rifle, Chance.”
All eyes turned to him, and he met each in turn with a level gaze. This was a decision he’d lived with for years, and he didn’t plan to change his mind. “I’ll ride for the sheriff,” he repeated.
Fritz nodded although the planes of his face hardened. He spoke as if every word pained him. “Let’s get going before it gets any later. And remember, they might already be in town. Tread carefully.”
Deborah mounted her horse without speaking. Chance went to her and looked up. “Deborah...”
“You heard them. We’ve got to get going.” But her face softened when his eyes met hers.
“Be careful.” He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, but his throat constricted.
She urged her horse forward, and he moved out of her way, leaving so much unsaid. She didn’t look back.
Chapter Six
Deborah swiped away the tears on her cheeks. Chance refused to help, when they needed him most. She shivered in the cold morning and the fear thrummed her temples.
The Andrews Gang—she’d heard of them. Everyone had.
She had to tamp down the panic and present a calm presence when she spoke to people. No need to set everyone in an uproar. If they all ran around like chickens with their heads chopped off, all would be chaos. As she rode along, she rehearsed what she’d say.
She pulled her horse to a stop at Fenton’s Blueberry Farm, slid from her horse, and ran to the door. She took a deep breath, smoothed her clothes, and knocked. Mr. Fenton answered the door, a quizzical expression on his face.
“Mr. Fenton, the Andrews Gang is in nearby. You could be in danger or, if not yourself, our town. Please consider going into Brokken with your sons.”
Mr. Fenton stared at her, scratched his head, and squinted. “Miss Brokken?”
“Yes. It’s me.”
“I heard the sheriff was looking for you.”
She’d almost forgotten. She licked her lips. “Yes, sir. That was a misunderstanding. Listen, the gang has been spotted north of town. Please head there and help defend it.”
“Sorry, Miss Brokken. Until I hear from the sheriff herself, I plan to stay right here, me and mine.”
He moved to close the door, and she put her flat palm against it. “Wait. You have to believe me. The gang kidnapped my brothers, Curt and Karl.”
“Your brothers? Last I heard tell, they were in a Mexican prison; that is, if you can believe half of what Mr. Fritz has to say. Missus Walsh told me anyone could tell he’s been lying through his teeth. And that lady is pretty sharp when it comes to fettering out such things.”
Deborah stamped her foot with impatience. “We need help, and if everyone is murdered, is your conscience going to smite you because your believed that woman’s gossip?”
“Gossip? Sounded to me it was the gospel truth.” And before she could react, he’d pulled the door closed, and she heard the bar slide into place.
Great. Everyone already knew about Fritz and his lies, knew the sheriff was looking for them. Mrs. Walsh didn’t waste time letting folks know.
Deborah stood a moment, undecided, and shivered in the cold. Isaac was the only one who would help. Maybe the Jennings would come too. They were mere boys, but boys younger than they had marched off to the War. That would be three more, at least. Better than none.
She ignored the steps, leapt from the porch, and ran to her horse.
KLINT HAD GOTTEN THINGS well organized by the time Deborah reached West Street, already barricaded. She smiled her appreciation as Klint motioned her around.
He face creased in puzzlement as he watched Isaac and the Jennings brothers ride in behind her. “Are they the only ones who would help?”
She raised her shoulders in a gesture of defeat. “Sorry. I tried Mr. Fenton’s place first, and he knew the sheriff was after us. I thought it’d be useless to check any of the other ranches. Talk runs fast and furious in small towns like Brokken.”
“You did what you could,” he said. “I had problems convincing some of the town folks.” When she dismounted, he moved closer and lowered his voice. “I may have had to lie to get them to cooperate.”
Deborah managed a weary smile. “Fritz is rubbing off on you.”
But she wasn’t amused. When was the lying going to stop? She sighed heavily. “Should I go to South Main, set up a barricade there? I take it none of the gang are yet in town.”
“I haven’t had time to search all the buildings. The Jennings can check from here to the saloon.”
“I’ll help.”
“No, you wait on the street and keep a lookout. Isaac can go into the buildings with the Jennings.”
She frowned at the authority in his voice. A couple of days ago, she’d been his boss. A tightness at the corners of his mouth, along with a hard shine in those sky-blue eyes, persuaded her. She nodded. “All right. How about East Street?”
The street Chance refused to help with, riding after the sheriff instead. She pushed the thought from her mind. She had to focus on the job at hand.
“I sent the butcher, Mr. Maddux, over there with some others. The roads are covered, but we need to hurry.” Klint walked away.
Isaac handed her a rifle. He had his revolvers in a holster strapped around his waist. He took one out to hand to the oldest Jennings boy. “Take good care of that. I want it back in the same shape I’m giving it to you.” Isaac’s demeanor, as always, was calm, serene. “Ready, Miss Deborah?”
She nodded and mounted her horse. It would give her a better view, allowing her to scan the area more easily. She followed Isaac and the boys as the frigid air bit her neck. She loosened her hair, allowing it to cascade down her back. She pulled up the collar of her coat.
The boys and Isaac entered each establishment and returned quickly. Alexander raised an arm each time he reappeared to let her know all was clear.
The boys were wiry and as quick as a rattlesnake striking. The walk took no longer than twenty minutes at most. The train depot was the last building searched.
She dismounted and looked around for something, anything to block the tracks. Rebecca, Lydia’s sister, came out of the livery, her face none too friendly. “What’s going on?”
The last time she’d seen Rebecca was in the Walsh kitchen. Rebecca had grilled Deborah and Lydia endlessly. She was in an even fouler mood now. Who could blame her when Lydia was in trouble because of the Brokkens? Perhaps they could mend their friendship later, but there was no time now.
“Anyone else around?” Deborah asked.
“Jake and Noah joined the posse, went after you and the others.” Rebecca laughed. “The sheriff should have waited here for you. A bad penny always shows up.”
Deborah bit her bottom lip. “Where is Lydia?”
“The sheriff handcuffed her and took her with her.”
Guilt made heat suffuse her cheeks. The Walsh family suffered as much as the Brokkens. “What of your mother?”
“Mother is prostrate in the bed, has been since Lydia and you broke Fritz, Chance, and Klint out of jail.”
“Do you need to tend to her?”
“No. She thinks I’m a nuisance. She keeps asking for Lydia.” Rebecca’s faced twisted, replaced with a wistful look that softened her features.
“I’m sorry. And your other sister, Hannah Beth? Where is she?”
“She’s at the school, helping Miss Edna. She’s to be the new school teacher next year. Miss Edna’s health has been poorly, and she’s decided to retire. Beth has been helping for several months.”
“Oh. But she knows about the Andrews Gang, that they are close to town?”
“The Andrews Gang?” A smile played on Rebecca’s lips, and she shook her head, a wary look coming into her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re up to Deborah Brokken.”
“I assure you I am telling the truth.”
“As you did a couple of days ago? When you sent Isaac to lure us away, so that you could steal the horses?” She scoffed.
Deborah gasped. Rebecca accused them of something worse than breaking out of jail or even robbing a bank. “Have you said that to anyone else?”
Rebecca’s stance softened. “No... I’m sorry, Deborah. I don’t want to see anyone hang for being a horse th
ief. And, really, one was your own. I suppose the others Lydia has a share in and letting you borrow them is not a crime.” Red stained her cheeks. “I should not have said you stole them.”
Deborah needed to take advantage, before Rebecca’s guilt was assuaged. “We have to get defenses up. Will you help?”
“Yes, I will.”
“Thank you.” For a moment, Deborah considered giving Rebecca a hug. She changed her mind, afraid the prickliness would return.
“What can I do?”
Deborah rubbed her temples. “We need something to go across the tracks, to block the road.”
“We have the wagon. I’ll get the mules hitched.”
Deborah nodded. “Or we can push it out? The Jennings boys are here and Isaac.”
“That would probably be easier.”
“Let me get some help.” Deborah moved away, her head downcast.
They’d made a mess of things and an even bigger mess was to come. And all of it was because of the Brokkens. She stopped for a moment, to allow the sorrow to flow through her. Yes, they’d made mistakes, lied, got others involved—Lydia, Chance, and Klint—made the sheriff look foolish, and threw the whole town in a panic when their money, entrusted to the Brokken Bank disappeared. And brought sorrow to the entire Walsh family.
She shook her head sadly. When all of this was over, if they didn’t all wind up behind bars, she probably needed to pack and head to Boston with her grandparents. How would she ever hold her head up in this town again?
Chance had ridden away, to find the sheriff, when he should have stayed beside her, stayed even if their chances were slim against the Andrews Gang.
She gritted her teeth. She could wallow in misery after this was over. Right now, she had to try to save the town, the town her father founded. Tears pricked her eyes at the thought of her father.
What was wrong with her? Her body ached with loss and sorrow while her sympathetic feet remained rooted to the spot.
Chance held her heart, but with trust destroyed, how long before their love followed? She took a deep breath, as if about to plunge in an icy lake, like that time in early January when she was eleven and jumped into the pond at the shooting house, on a dare from Fritz.
Brokken Redeemed Page 4