Long Time Gone

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Long Time Gone Page 11

by Mary Connealy


  One was left without the X mark, however.

  “What do you suppose it is?” Angie asked.

  Aunt Margaret pointed first to a small drawing inside one of the blocks, then to a curvy line near the drawing. “I think this is the Cimarron River, and this right here is Skull Mesa. If I’m right, these markings might be property lines. And those lines are around where the Bodens live. This must be their ranch.” Looking up, Margaret added, “It’s one of the few that hasn’t been marked off.”

  “Marked off?” Angie felt her mouth go dry.

  “Yes, as if someone’s doing something to these holdings one by one.” Aunt Margaret jabbed a finger at the drawing of Skull Mesa and the unmarked area around it. “And it looks to me like the Cimarron Ranch is next.”

  15

  “You expect me to climb in that?” Chance wasn’t afraid of much, but this was just asking for trouble.

  “I told you I was going to spirit you away and be careful no one followed.” Dr. Radcliffe gave Chance a look that said more clearly than words that he was a busy man.

  “So you’re going to spirit me away and somehow I end up being a real spirit?”

  “No, you don’t have to die. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “There’s a lot that’s ridiculous about this situation.” Ronnie folded her arms, but she didn’t throw the doctor out of the room.

  With a sinking feeling, Chance got the message. She wasn’t going to fight the doctor over this.

  “But I’d think this would offend your professional pride.”

  “Not at all.” Doc Radcliffe seemed overly cheerful, all things considered. “I haul people out of here in one of these all the time.”

  “I’m guessing most of ’em are dead, though.” Chance looked at the wooden coffin. “There’s no way there might be a mix-up and they accidently bury me, is there?”

  “No.” The doctor waved that away, but Chance thought the man was way too casual about the whole thing.

  “Ronnie, make sure I have my gun before I climb in there.”

  “Mrs. Boden won’t forget anything.” The doctor removed his wire-rimmed glasses and polished them with a white kerchief he pulled from his back pocket, as if he put people in a casket every day. If he did, that made him a mighty poor doctor in Chance’s opinion.

  “You’ll have to empty the room of all your belongings.”

  There wasn’t much. They’d traveled mighty light when they came racing up here.

  “So I get in the coffin and Ronnie walks out pretending like she’s mourning?” Chance hated to make Ronnie even pretend such a thing.

  “You seem like a very strong, straightforward, and honest man, Mr. Boden.”

  Instead of saying thank you, Chance braced himself.

  “Which is why you seem to have no notion of how to sneak around.”

  “I do prefer to face my troubles head on, Doc. And instead of sneaking, I’d rather just punch my enemies in the face.”

  “Hmm . . .” Doc Radcliffe seemed obsessed with a speck on one of his lenses. Maybe he was afraid he might end up being one of Chance’s “troubles.”

  “The thing is, Mr. Boden,” he said and cleared his throat as if half the Rocky Mountains had lodged in there, “Mrs. Boden needs to be in the casket with you.”

  Chance slapped a hand over his eyes and groaned. He peeked through his fingers to see Ronnie staring in horror at the wooden box, one hand clutching her throat.

  The doctor glanced nervously over his shoulder. “One of the nurses working here last night thought a man was watching the hospital with a bit too much interest. He kept back in the shadows most of the time, but she has sharp eyes and knew he was there.”

  That got every ounce of Chance’s attention. The men John had warned him about might already be here.

  “We have little choice, Mr. Boden. We must get you out of here. We will lose a patient and carry him out in that wooden box.” The doctor nodded at the casket. “It’s not just a sneaky thing to do, it also provides you with excellent care. The straw-filled wagon will cushion your ride. The solid wooden box is good support for your leg while you’re being transported. I’ll direct the driver to take you to a house, where your family awaits to hold the funeral. No one will know what became of you. You’ll then be taken to a place where you’ll be safe and have all the time you need to heal.”

  Chance thought of the danger. Was John right? Had those attacking his family really sent someone this far to finish what that avalanche had started? He looked at the box, then at Ronnie. Then he glared at the doctor, who refused to flinch from Chance’s gaze. That impressed him because Chance had made some mighty tough men flinch.

  “We’ll do it,” he finally said.

  “When do you need us to climb in there, Doctor?” Ronnie plucked things up and laid them inside the pine box. “I’d as soon wait to get in myself until the last minute.”

  “The days are short. The sun has set, and I’d prefer to do this under cover of darkness. The last minute is right now.”

  Ronnie’s jaw clenched, but she just folded and packed faster. His wife was packing a coffin like it was a valise. Not for the first time, Chance wished badly he could just go home.

  Ronnie said, “That’s everything. Now, how do we get my husband in there?”

  “If you’ll notice, Mrs. Boden, there’s a latch you can release from inside the casket.”

  Shaking his head, Chance muttered, “That had to terrify the undertaker.”

  Ronnie undid the latch, and the whole side of the casket swung down.

  The doctor laughed. “I rigged it myself. No one knows about this but me. Even the men carrying you out don’t know.”

  “I hope they don’t forget what they’re about and accidentally bury us.”

  Ronnie looked at him, and he was pretty sure she growled. “Stop bringing that up, Chance,” she said.

  Ronnie and the doctor helped him hobble the few feet to the strangest thing he’d ever ridden in. Once they had him tucked in, Ronnie climbed in beside him. It was a mighty tight squeeze.

  The doctor swung the side up. “Mrs. Boden, can you reach the latch?”

  Ronnie did it with only a minimum of twisting around.

  The doctor lowered the lid, and as he did he said, “Now you two behave yourselves in there.” He laughed and slammed the lid shut. Chance heard him leave the room.

  “You know, Ronnie, I could have just limped out the front door and shot whoever was watching us. Instead we’re locked into the world’s smallest prison by a man we really don’t know all that well.” Chance sighed.

  “I have both our guns.” Ronnie pressed one into his hands. “We can fight our way out if we need to.”

  “Ronnie, there’s no one I’d rather be locked in a coffin with than you.”

  She punched him in the chest. Chance suspected it was the only place she could reach. As long as they had some spare time and he was this close, he kissed her.

  Justin had been out of the saddle too much the last few weeks.

  As he stood from the table, he was full to the point of pain. Rosita worked magic with a roast and she’d outdone herself, celebrating Cole being up and about. The aroma of the savory meat and the sweet apple cobbler lingered and made the house comforting. He eased himself into a leather chair in the office and considered his aching muscles.

  Cole set himself up behind Pa’s desk, which irritated Justin on a normal day. Today he didn’t mind—much.

  His brother was still pale, still moving slow, but up and around, healing. Justin didn’t like being all foolish and sentimental, but he had to admit, Cole looking so much better was a bright light amidst all the dark troubles that swirled around the Boden family.

  John sat in a chair straight across from Justin, on either end of the settee where Sadie sat with Cole.

  “It seems to me,” Justin said, “we’ve spent every minute since Pa got hurt just defending ourselves and reacting to trouble. Today we turn and take the trouble st
raight to those who’ve asked for it.”

  Heath slapped the arm of the small settee, and his eyes flashed with anticipation.

  Cole nodded in satisfaction.

  John said, “High time.”

  With a graceful move, Sadie took Heath’s hand. She looked worried but determined.

  “I’ve got a plan to flush out whoever is betraying us,” Justin began. “Tomorrow I want to—”

  “I’ve got some thoughts, too.” Cole interrupted. “I want us to do this legal so we can arrest—”

  “Hold on, Cole.” Heath talked over Justin’s big brother like a man who’d had plenty of big brothers of his own. “I have an idea or two about this myself. I think—”

  Cole was off, yammering, using words as long as he could conjure them out of his overloaded brain.

  Personally, Justin had always thought that a person who’d been to college had too much of the common sense educated out of him. Of course, Cole was about the only person he knew who’d been to college.

  Heath, well, anyone who knew that Heath had three big brothers would be able to see how a youngster learns to speak up.

  Justin inhaled deeply, ready to shut them both up no matter how loud he had to yell, when a commotion drew his attention.

  Justin leapt to his feet, took one long step to the desk, and pulled open the center drawer while being mindful of Cole’s tender belly. He grabbed the gun he’d been keeping close to hand at all times.

  He saw Cole produce a gun from a bottom drawer, and Heath pulled one he’d tucked behind a picture propped up on the mantel. Nope, two guns. He handed the second to Sadie.

  All four of them were armed in seconds. They cocked their guns at the same instant. No one wore a holster inside as a rule, but they’d all made sure to have a loaded weapon close to hand.

  Justin rushed for the door, Heath a step behind him. Justin reached for the knob. He wasn’t leaving Rosita to face an intruder alone. Then he heard her speaking to someone in the kitchen. There was an urgency to the exchange, but no fear coming from Rosita.

  The voices were definitely moving closer, and he recognized the other voice. As fast as they’d appeared, all of the guns vanished. They were all seated calmly when the door opened.

  Angie had come back to the CR, and Justin had no interest in fighting her off. When she came in, Justin rose to his feet. “How did you get here?”

  That seemed to stun her into silence for a moment, as if that wasn’t what she wanted to talk about at all. “Uh . . . I rode.”

  “By yourself? In December? In the dark?” He saw her tremble to control her mouth and remembered what she’d said about being too obedient her whole life. She seemed to be fighting the reflex to be obedient right now.

  Into the silence she spoke quickly, quietly. “I may have found out the root cause of the trouble you’ve been having. And it’s possible that the man who shot Maria wasn’t gunning for you at all, though I doubt he’d have objected to killing you.”

  “What does that mean?” Justin strode to her side.

  She handed him a single sheet of paper, and he found it surprisingly hard to tear his eyes away from her. But he forced himself to look down.

  He knew exactly what he was looking at. He’d seen maps of the land grants before. Pa had more than one book in his office that had a version of this same map. The difference was that this one had a black X marked on nearly all the land grants. One of the few left was the CR.

  “Maria . . . what does this have to do with her?”

  “We were cleaning out her room today, and we found this. It was deliberately and very well hidden.”

  “Let’s see it, Justin.” By the impatient tone in Cole’s voice, Justin wondered just how long he’d stared at the map.

  He handed it to Cole. Sadie and Heath got up and rounded the desk to see what was going on.

  Cole’s jaw tightened as he considered it.

  Heath said, “This looks like someone is doing something to all the old land grants. And whoever it is, he’s close to getting what he aims to get.”

  Cole nodded. “Justin, you know the area ranchers better than I do. What’s going on? What do these Xs mean? I know these haven’t all changed hands.”

  “There’s been an effort to strip the land grants away from their owners, but they aren’t all gone.” Justin caught Angie’s arm and towed her along with him to look down at the map. He tapped on it. “This one’s the Merino grant, the one straight to the north. As you can see, it’s been marked off. But I know for a fact the land has been passed down through the family.”

  “Well, it’s not exactly in their hands,” Sadie said. “There was only one daughter, and since her wedding five years ago, she’s become a hermit. She was always a social woman who loved parties and pretty dresses, but there hasn’t been a party at the Merino ranch in years. Her parents have both died since she married. Her husband isn’t a friendly man, and he’s not a very good rancher.”

  That sent a ripple of surprise through the room.

  Frowning, Justin tapped another spot on the map. “This one got taken away and given to one of the governor’s cronies. And this one”—he pointed to another—“has been broken up since the last owner died with no children.”

  “No children?” Heath asked in a harsh voice. “Or no living children?”

  “I think he lost two boys in the war, and another one, young enough not to go to war, broke his neck in a fall from his horse. But that was years ago.”

  “A slow, steady takeover of a huge portion of the territory,” Cole said, staring past them all, his expression forbidding.

  “We know whoever is behind this is playing a long game.” Sadie’s grim words reflected what they all knew. The shooting of Grandfather Chastain was one of the opening rounds of this quiet war.

  “If we study this map real hard, I think we’re going to find out that each and every one of these ranches has somehow come under the rule of the governor, or his people.”

  Shaking his head, Justin said, “No, I know the governor. He’s a decent man. He’s no conspirator trying to steal land grants.”

  “He’s decent, but is he strong?” Cole asked. “I know him, too, and he’s let a lot of the running of this territory be handled by underlings. The governor likes the ceremonies of his job, but he doesn’t hold the reins tightly.”

  “Maybe that’s part of this,” Sadie said. “Some governors are easily managed, others are too watchful. That might explain why it’s taken thirty years. The men behind this have to pull back with their scheming at times.”

  “But then comes a new governor who isn’t vigilant and the plan revives.” Justin spoke past a tightly clenched jaw. “Someone is trying to take over this whole part of the state.”

  “Not someone.” Rosita’s voice drew their attention to where she stood in the office doorway. “Rebels. Rebels trying to get the land back for Mexico. Viva México.”

  The words of a revolution.

  16

  Angie knew she’d as good as shot a flaming arrow into the middle of the Boden family.

  She had to do it. Riding out here alone, on that contrary horse, was terrifying, but she’d waited until the orphanage had settled down for the night, then snuck away, telling no one. She knew Aunt Margaret would have forbidden it. Yet the Bodens needed to know without delay. Speed and secrecy were both vital. And now she had to get back. Hopefully Aunt Margaret would never know about her dangerous decision to ride off alone at night.

  The ride home was just as threatening, but Angie hoped to be tucked in bed in the morning with Aunt Margaret none the wiser. She also knew what she might face with the Bodens if she rode off alone. An escort, of course, and most likely it would be Justin.

  The memory of the kiss they’d shared was like a living thing inside her. Her desire to be loved and, even more, to be taken care of was strong. She’d spent her whole life handing her care over to others, and she was finished with that. She couldn’t be the woman God wanted h
er to be without standing on her own two feet. She’d promised God she would find her own strength, the strength He gave everyone to be a person of faith instead of a weakling who did as she was told, even when it was sin.

  And while Edward was a cruel man with words, he wasn’t physically strong. Mostly he ignored her. Still, she’d found a way to survive and be a faithful Christian, quietly, within a marriage she was too weak to refuse.

  With Justin, the strongest man she’d ever known, she would never find her own backbone. Learn her own mind. Stand up for herself. And one more ride with Justin might seal her fate and put her into his keeping. Something she wanted more than she feared, but she hadn’t impressed herself with her wisdom.

  When Rosita came in with her talk of rebels, everyone’s attention was riveted. Rosita paced toward the fireplace and all eyes were on her. Angie took this moment to slip silently away.

  She was careful to walk as silently as she could down the hallway to the kitchen. She was a woman who had spent most of her life trying to avoid the notice of her mother and then later her husband. She could move quietly.

  The kitchen door opened and closed without a creak. She was in the saddle, careful not to gallop, even though the back of her neck itched as if the hairs were standing straight up, urging her to run to the safety of the orphanage. A galloping horse would only draw attention and she’d be caught in minutes. Also, she’d probably fall off.

  Once she was out of the ranch yard she tried speeding the horse up, but there was such a terrible bouncing that she immediately went back to walking. It was an old mare, after all, the horse that pulled Aunt Margaret’s buggy. It was in no way a speedy creature, so the walk suited them both, except for her desire to get home quickly.

  The darkness increased, pressing down on her like falling stones. She remembered why Justin made her dismount and walk when he’d ridden home with her. Gunmen might be lying in wait. The horses would shield them on both sides.

  Though she hadn’t reached that narrow stretch yet, she felt those rifles now, aimed right at her. The man who’d shot Maria could be aiming at her right now.

 

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