“Did they catch you listening?”
“No, oh, no! If they had, I wouldn’t be talkin’ to you now. I was terrified the whole time, just like I’m terrified now.”
“Would it help you to whisper it in my ear?”
She stared at him for a moment, and sensing she was trying to pluck up her last bit of courage, he patted the mattress next to him.
“Come and sit next to me,” he said softly. “If I pass along the information, I’m certainly not going to tell anyone it was you who gave it to me, and that I promise.”
“I want to, I do. I’m positively burstin’ to get it out.”
Though her voice had been low, it had been filled with urgency, and as she sat beside him he heard her take a deep breath, then she leaned in and placed her mouth against his ear.
“They’re plannin’ to set fire to Duke Baker’s cabin on Saturday night. It’s just outside town.”
Tucker felt his heart skip.
“Did they say why?” he murmured.
“They’re gonna threaten Mr. Baker and tell him if he doesn’t do what they want, they’ll burn down his home on top of the hill.”
Tucker sat quietly for a moment, then took Beth’s hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Thank you, Beth. You did the right thing and I know exactly how to handle this. Do you have a man in your life?”
“I do, Johnny, and I wish he’d ask me to marry him. We’ve been courtin’ forever.”
“If anyone asks, that’s what we talked about.”
“What a good idea,” she said, a smile crossing her face for the first time since she’d entered the room. “That’s exactly what I’ll say.”
“And my answer about your problem with Johnny? Be a little less available to him. Sometimes a young man doesn’t realize what he has until he’s at risk of losing it, but be sure he is really the one.”
“He is, father, honestly. I love him so much it hurts.”
“We have a saying in Ireland; the only cure for love is marriage.”
“What does that mean?”
“Think on it,” he grinned, “and God bless you, Beth. You’ve done a good thing here this morning.”
“I’m so glad I told you,” she sighed. “I feel so much better. Thank you, father.”
“Thank you, Beth.”
She left the room, and though he had to listen to the woes of several more women before he could leave, he didn’t mind a bit. The morning had produced some vital information, including the news that Marshal Kenny Bragg was probably not as trustworthy as Duke Baker believed.
Chapter Nine
Having finished the midday meal, irritated that she couldn’t have a slice of the cake sitting in the middle of the table, Dolly hurried up to her room and changed into her split skirt. A long ride would help settle her, and heading out to the barn, she paced impatiently as one of the cowboys saddled up Daisy, then she galloped up the mountain behind the house. Reaching the top, she slowed her mare to a walk and gazed down at the majestic view. Her house sat directly below her, and in the distance she could see the town, the cabin, the thicket opening out to the meadow, and the wandering creek with its watering hole.
“I wonder what you’re up to, Tucker Prescott,” she mumbled as her gaze focused on the cabin. “I wish I could see you.”
Dolly had not been able to get Tucker out of her mind. As she’d tried to go to sleep, she’d found herself imagining what it would be like to kiss him. She’d only been kissed once, by Kenny Bragg, and it hadn’t made her tingle the way she thought it would… or should… in fact, she hadn’t felt anything at all. Throughout the night she had tossed and turned, dreaming dreams of Tucker sweeping her into his arms and devouring her mouth. She’d woken breathless, and with a warm slick wetness between her legs.
Maude had told her that when she fell in love she would know. He would linger in her thoughts, make her tummy flip, and her skin would pop out in goosebumps if he touched her. That’s what was happening with Tucker Prescott, and Dolly could hardly believe it.
Should she tell Maude about the wicked images that had floated through her mind as she’d slept? She was desperate to tell someone, but would she be scolded for such naughty thoughts? Even though it had been mortifying when he’d spanked her, if she was being honest, she had to admit that it had also been thrilling. When he’d found her on Main Street, jumped on Daisy and sat behind her, she’d been so shocked she hadn’t protested, and when he’d put his arms around her and taken the reins from her hands, she’d felt the most wonderful shiver dance through her bones. Then later, leaning against his chest as he’d hugged her, in those amazing, heart-stopping few moments, the world had stood completely still. The memories were alive, and staring down at the log cabin, she felt a deep, unfamiliar longing.
“I want to see you, Tucker Prescott,” she mumbled. “I want to see you very badly. Why can’t you come up to the house tomorrow instead of the priest? Why can’t you both come up?”
Frustrated, she fought the temptation to ride down to the thicket and watch for him under the cover of the trees. No one would be any the wiser, but she’d promised her father she’d stay away, though if she did go, it wouldn’t be the first promise she’d broken.
Fighting away the temptation, she was about to continue her ride when she spotted a lone figure cantering out of the town and heading toward the cabin. Holding up her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, she peered into the distance, but she couldn’t see any detail. The rider finally stopped next to the corrals and jumped off, and then she could make out his long robes; it was the priest.
Letting out a sigh, she started moving along the trail, wishing she could make her way down to the thicket and wait for Tucker to arrive home just so she could feast her eyes on him, but as she thought about it, questions began swimming in her head. Why had Tucker asked for two extra horses, and what could a catholic priest possibly do to help save Spring Junction? Tucker didn’t seem like a devout man, but was he? With a name like Father O’Brien, the priest could well be Irish. Had Tucker enlisted his aid because the McGills were Irish? Did Tucker think a man of God from Ireland might be able to get through to them?
As she reached the open field below her house, she pushed her curiosity aside and stared at the thicket. If the priest was back at the cabin, wouldn’t Tucker soon return? All she wanted was a glimpse of him. She pictured him sitting tall in his saddle, thought about his wide shoulders, and how watching him walk positively made her toes curl, and suddenly the need to see him overwhelmed her. She couldn’t stand it, and promising herself she’d stay for only a short time, she headed into the trees.
The thicket was her second home. She’d played there as a child, and had called it her fairytale forest. She knew every nook and cranny, and cutting through an area that appeared to be impassable, she dropped her reins and let Daisy carry her down the virtually invisible track they’d ridden many times. When they reached the edge of the densely wooded area, she pulled to a stop and stared down at the cabin.
If she’d taken the regular trail her outlook would have been obstructed by the barn, but where she sat she had an uninterrupted view. Everything was quiet. Lifting her gaze, she looked past the cabin to the road leading up to it; there was no sign of anyone. She sighed heavily. Tucker could be anywhere. She could sit there for the rest of the afternoon and not see him, and he obviously wasn’t home; there were still only the three horses in the corrals. Filled with disappointment, she decided to leave, but then she saw the door to the cabin open, and to her surprise, Tucker walked out carrying a bucket.
She caught her breath. He was sauntering across to the water pump. His shirt had no sleeves, and as he placed the container on the ground and take hold of the pump’s handle, her gaze locked on his bulging muscles. Swallowing hard, she studied him as he drove the heavy steel handle up and down, and when he picked up the full bucket and strode back to the cabin, she let out a long, heavy sigh.
“He is somet
hing, isn’t he, Daisy?” she murmured, stroking her horse’s neck. “He was inside all this time, but that’s funny, I wonder where his horse is. Could he have put him in the barn?”
If she returned to the well-worn trail that led to the watering hole, she could reach the barn without being seen. She was curious, and riding through the thicket to the much-used trail, she was soon emerging from the trees. Climbing off, she looped the reins on a branch and hurried forward. The only windows were on either side, but then she’d be exposed. If Tucker or the priest happened to look through a window and glance in her direction they’d see her. She stood for a moment, trying to decide what to do. Did it matter if Tucker’s horse was inside? Was it worth the risk to find out?
Dolly’s daring rose to the fore, and darting forward, she ran to the window and peered inside; the barn was empty. She glanced back at the corrals. There were the two horses that belonged to the ranch, and the other belonged to the priest. Where was Tucker’s horse? Shaking her head, bewildered by the puzzle, Dolly hurried back to her mare. Climbing into the saddle, she was about to head for home when she heard the sound of distant hooves galloping across the ground.
Her view was obscured by the barn, so she moved Daisy into a fast walk and headed back to her original spot. By the time she reached it, the visitor had arrived and dismounted, and Dolly was none too happy to see it was a woman. She was talking to Tucker on the porch in a very animated way, and when Tucker put his hands on his hips and shook his head, Dolly sensed the woman had just delivered some worrying news.
* * *
When Tucker had looked out the window and spied Rose cantering toward the cabin, he knew he had no time to don his disguise, but he lived his life being prepared for the unexpected, and he’d stepped out onto the porch to greet her. As she had pulled her horse to a stop and climbed from the saddle, he’d seen the confusion on her face.
“I’m looking for Father O’Brien,” she’d declared. “I’m Rose Gillings, I have a boarding house and he lodged with me last night, but he told me he’d be staying here. Did I misunderstand?”
“No, Father O’Brien is here, but he suffers from headaches and he’s restin’ right now.”
“Are you staying here too?”
“Yep, the name’s Tucker Prescott. The father and I work together, but I arrived a couple of days ago. I’ve been layin’ low waitin’ for him to arrive, but I’m not surprised he went into town before comin’ here. He does things like that. He likes to get to know a town without me interferin’. I don’t approve of him wanderin’ around by himself but he does it anyways.”
“You look a little like him,” Rose remarked.
“We’re distantly related,” Tucker said quickly. “You wanna leave him a message?”
“Yes, definitely, and I’m sorry to say it’s not good news. Several of the McGill gang came to my house looking for him just a little bit ago. I didn’t tell them anything, except that he’d gone, but they’ll eventually find out he’s here. I wanted to warn him. They didn’t seem like they’d come by for a friendly chat.”
“I appreciate the heads up,” Tucker said gratefully. “We’ll be ready for them.”
“I cannot tell you how relieved I am that Father O’Brien has someone to watch out for him.”
“That’s what I do,” Tucker nodded. “I watch out for people, and you’d best go. You don’t wanna be found here.”
“Heavens, no,” she said, quickly moving back to her horse and climbing into the saddle.
“If you go around the back and through that field, you can ride into town from the other side.”
“I know, and I will. I don’t want to run into them on my way home. Please give the father my regards.”
“I’ll be sure to do that, and thanks again.”
He waited until she had trotted away and was galloping across the field before moving back inside. He was grateful for the warning. Rose had placed herself in danger, and when things settled down he’d make sure she was amply rewarded for her courage. Now the only question was, would Father O’Brien meet the mob when they arrived, or would it be Tucker Prescott to welcome them?
* * *
Dolly watched the woman ride away, disappearing behind the cabin and into the open terrain, obviously heading back into town the long way around. It was frustrating, standing there out of sight and not knowing what was going on. Whatever it was, it was clear the woman didn’t want to run into anyone as she left. Did that mean she knew she might? What was going on? If she snuck down to the cabin, she might be able to overhear Tucker talking to the priest.
She knew she was wrong to even think of doing such a thing.
She knew if her father caught her, he might send back to the city to stay with her cousins.
She knew if Tucker discovered her, her bottom would doubtless be bared and he’d spank her into next week.
She knew it was foolish and disobedient, and she should absolutely turn around and go home.
She knew all those things, and yet…
Chapter Ten
A short time later, dressed as Father O’Brien, Tucker appeared to be lounging in a chair reading his bible. The thundering sound of hoof beats didn’t stir him from his spot, and when four scruffy-looking men burst inside, he didn’t move, but lifted his eyes from the pages of the good book. It took him only seconds to size them up; the two who remained loitering by the door were young cowpokes seeking glory, the two in front were as mean as rattlesnakes and just as deadly.
“You Father O’Brien?” one of the older men demanded.
“I believe, if you look around, you’ll see I am the only priest here,” Tucker said sardonically in his thick Irish accent. “It would be a likely conclusion, and since I am bound not to lie, I cannot say I’m any other than who I am.”
“I dunno what the heck ya just said,” the man grunted, glaring at him, “but ya gotta come with us. Our boss wants a word.”
“I’m afraid I must decline your very gracious invitation, but he is welcome to visit here. I could brew him a cup of proper tea. I don’t travel anywhere without it.”
“Ya better stop with the smart-aleck remarks and get on yer feet!”
“As I said, I must decline your most gracious offer.”
“Ya don’t get to say no to Patrick McGill,” the man snarled, moving closer to him, “and if ya don’t get outta that chair right now, yer gonna be sorry.”
“Are you threatening a man of God?” Tucker asked, his eyes challenging the nasty piece of work through his spectacles.
“Damn straight!”
“Are you sure that’s something you want to do?”
“Ya sure are a stubborn coot, but yer comin’ with us, like it or not. Come on, Davy, help me get ‘im up.”
Two shots suddenly blasted through the room and both men dropped to the floor, one grabbing his shoulder, the other his thigh. The speed with which Tucker had pulled his gun from under the bible had allowed no time for either of them to react, and the young cowpokes at the door froze in stunned shock.
“Snap out of it, boys,” Tucker said sharply, raising his pistol and pointing it at them. “Your friends are in a bad way and need to get to a doctor, but before you help them to their horses, would you please relieve them of their guns and place them on the kitchen table, along with yours as well, obviously.”
“Since when do priests shoot people?” groaned the man who had been hit in the thigh.
“You’re Davy, if I recall. Well, Davy, I shoot only to defend myself,” Tucker replied, “and be grateful I am a priest, or right now you’d be turning as cold as a leprechaun in winter.”
Tucker’s voice may have sounded casual, but every nerve in his body was sparking. Though the two young wannabe gangsters were still shaking in their boots, they could easily out-maneuver him if they had the guts and the know-how. Luckily they had neither, and somewhat unsteady on their feet, they collected the weapons, placed them on the table, then moved back to help the wounded men to their
feet. Watching them, Tucker silently sighed a breath of relief.
“Don’t forget to pass along my invitation to your boss. He’s welcome to join me for a cup of good, strong Irish tea.”
“He’s gonna come here all right,” one of the cowpokes said as he helped the gunman who had been shot in the arm, “but when he leaves, yer gonna be lyin’ on the floor dead meat.”
“I dunno how they do things in Ireland, but here, ya don’t get to walk away from somethin’ like this,” the other cowpoke added, almost falling down from the weight of the man who’d been shot in the leg.
Tucker didn’t respond, but as they struggled through the front door, he rose to his feet and followed them out, ordering them to stay still while he removed the rifles strapped to their saddles.
“Yer gonna be so sorry, old man,” the young cowpoke continued, staring at him with hatred in his eyes.
“Son, it’s not too late to turn your life around. If you don’t, very soon you’ll either be pushing up daisies, or behind bars with men who will do unspeakable things to you. Think about it.”
It was fleeting, but Tucker saw a flicker of belief in the boy’s eyes. Had the comment made a difference?
“If you ever want a private word with the man upstairs, all you have to do is close your eyes and pray,” Tucker added, stepping away from the horses. “Now I’d suggest you get your friends some help before they both bleed to death.”
The boy mumbled something Tucker couldn’t make out, then he and his buddy managed to get the injured men into their saddles. Not wanting to take any chances, Tucker stood on the porch until their horses had carried them out of sight, then moving back inside the cabin, he took off his spectacles and let out a heavy sigh; it had been a close call. If the two young lads had been tough, experienced gunmen, in all likelihood he’d be lying on the floor filled with lead.
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