The Fire in Ember

by DiAnn Mills

  “Nothing really. Why?”

  “You’ve sighed a few times, and I wondered what was ailing you.”

  Bert felt Leah’s intense gaze. She’d been under that scrutiny more than once today. She couldn’t blame Leah for being distrustful. The woman had been so kind to her. “I was thinking on what I’d do after I’m finished here.”

  “It’ll be nearly winter.”

  Freezing to death didn’t sound like a good way to die, and she wasn’t ready to simply give up without a fight. “I understand a body just goes to sleep.”

  Leah blanched. “When you freeze to death?”

  Bert shuddered. “Yes.”

  “I’ve been thinking you might find a job in Rocky Falls. Possibly earn some money to help you make your way in the spring.”

  If Simon hasn’t found me by then. But the winter snows would stop him too. She shook her head.

  “Why not?”

  Bert tossed a questioning look. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t listening.”

  “I suggested working in Rocky Falls until spring. Then you could plan your future.”

  “Sounds like a good idea.” Bert let her thoughts end there. She had to leave. No matter how much she wanted to be a part of this dear family, her dreams also had her far beyond her brothers’ reach. Too many times she’d postponed the journey, but her selfish ways could get someone hurt.

  CHAPTER 16

  John left the Wide O near twilight. Urgency filled his gut to find the cattle thieves before the ranchers found them and had a lynching. He wondered if his brothers had discovered some of their own cattle missing. Being a part of the problem cast the blame on someone other than Bert. He never thought he’d wish some of his livestock gone. For all he knew, Bert could be a part of a gang. If he had his doubts about her, then what would a crowd do once they had a reminder she was caught riding Oberlander’s mare?

  John understood the way men reacted when they’d been wronged. He couldn’t think of anything worse than trying to stand down angry men with retribution on their minds and a noose dangling from a tree. God-fearing men who lost control were just as deadly as a gang of outlaws.

  His ponderings came full circle back to Bert. John could handle bad news and deal with the fact he might have grown fond of a woman set up to deceive him, but what about Mama and Evan and his other brothers? Who was he trying to fool with his bravado? Bert made his knees weak and his mouth dry. How could a man let a woman get under his skin in three weeks and one day?

  He patted the gelding’s neck. At least his horse didn’t have woman problems or lawbreakers or family responsibilities. Sure would be nice to talk to Uncle Parker and have a little help sorting out this mess. John didn’t have the time to travel to Denver. But he did have time to talk to God. Sure would be nice if God would send him a telegram.

  He rode into Rocky Falls. The town looked peaceful, a quiet community. Since Bob Culpepper had been elected marshal over four years ago, he’d handled the rare problems with a firm hand. Being the town’s undertaker gave those who chose to break the law something more to think about. He had a way of reminding lawbreakers about the coffins stored in the back room of the funeral home that scared them straight. John found the marshal’s threats amusing, but reality worked. Maybe Bob should run for judge too. A man who served as town marshal, a judge, and an undertaker ought to eliminate any problems in and around Rocky Falls.

  Dark shadows lingered by the time John tied his horse to the hitching post in front of the marshal’s office. Weariness bore down on him before he’d begun the search for the cattle rustlers. Bob had indicated the need to form a posse, but first the men needed a trail to follow. After Saturday night’s gulley washer, the tracks had vanished. Maybe the thieves would get cocky and try adding to their herd. Ranch hands would be armed and waiting. Blood would flow, and unfortunately the innocent would fall along with the guilty.

  A lantern shone through the window indicating Bob labored over a mound of work, rubbing his chest. John opened the door to find him studying a hand-drawn map of the ranches in the area. He glanced up and greeted John, then motioned for him to sit down. “You look as tired as I feel.”

  “Then we both need to get some rest soon.”

  “You sound like my wife. She brought me supper and proceeded to tell me I wouldn’t be losing so much hair and complaining about my aching bones if I’d give up being the town’s marshal.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  He grinned, and the lines lifted around his eyes. “That being an undertaker taxed a man’s view of age too.”

  John enjoyed a good belly laugh. “Learn anything about the rustlers?”

  “Widow Bess told me Leon Wilson showed up at the saloon the evening Oberlander fired him. Made some strong threats. Wish she would have gotten word to me then so I could have talked to him.”

  John slid a chair across the wooden floor and positioned it across from Bob’s desk. “Oberlander has around fifty head missing, bringing the total to around a hundred. Just like McBride’s and Breacher’s losses, the rain washed away the tracks. Frankly, I think we could still pick up a trail.” He took in a deep breath in hopes his body would stop screaming out for rest. “Oberlander told me Leon Wilson’s people are from Silverton. That’s worth a wire in case he shows up there.”

  “We’ll handle sending it first thing in the morning. According to McBride and Breacher, the cattle seemed to disappear.”

  “What else did you learn?”

  “The Rocky Mountain News claims a gang of brothers have been stealing cattle in the southern part of the state. Could be the gang’s moved this way. I’ve been studying a map to see if there’s a pattern. Looks varied to me at this point.” Bob sat back in his chair and ran his fingers over the top of his balding head. He looked like ten hours of sleep would do him good. “Could be Leon. Could be any number of gangs.”

  “Anyone killed?”

  “A ranch hand and a few others. Blamed on the gang of brothers.”

  Not since Uncle Parker and Aunt Sage took out over the Rockies to free him and Davis from the McCaw gang had John felt serious trouble from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. He’d been eighteen when the outlaws hit the area, and now he was twenty-three. Same time of year as then too. No wonder he sweated during the summer months. The uneasiness had more to do with the memory of a murdering gang than the hot sun. The summer his father was murdered hadn’t left him; the pain was merely masked with work and responsibility.

  “Who’s leading the gang of brothers?” John already had an idea about writing Uncle Parker. His state contacts would aid them in getting federal marshals to Rocky Falls.

  “A man by the name of Simon Farrar. Supposed to be three of them. However, the newspaper claimed five men were involved in one of the incidents.”

  John groaned and studied the bullet hole on the top of Bob’s desk. “Do you mind if I contact Uncle Parker for a US Marshal? I know the last time we got a man who wasn’t much help, but if my uncle is making the request, we’ll get an experienced lawman.”

  “My thoughts too.” Bob winced. He brought his hand to the left side of his chest. “Even after five years, the McCaw brothers are still fresh in our minds.”

  “I’d take a horsewhip to one of my brothers if they even hinted of taking what wasn’t theirs.”

  “Sometimes all it takes is a hungry belly and the oldest promising a better life—just like the problem we had here five years ago. Those cattle rustlers plaguing our community are no doubt following the same kind of man—clever and able to manipulate others. Hope for a better tomorrow has a powerful hold.”

  Wisdom had spoken, and Bob had much of it to give.

  “Ever been hungry, John? I mean so hungry you’d eat the bark off a tree?”

  “No sir.”

  “I was nearly thirty years old when I fought in the Civil War. Hunger for food—or whatever it is that makes a person desperate—moves a man to do things he’s never thought of doing bef
ore. Sometimes it makes a man a hero. Sometimes it makes him an outlaw.”

  “Like my pa. Whatever happened to him in the war drove him to drink. And, come to think of it, the McCaw brothers came out of the war as killers seeking revenge for what happened to their families and homes.”

  “Hard times affect men in different ways.”

  John took a moment to chew on what Bob had said. “Stands to reason if you can figure out what makes a man behave a particular way, you’d have a lot less lawbreakers.” He hesitated. “I’d like to study law someday.”

  “Sounds like something your Uncle Parker would say.”

  John missed his uncle. “He probably has, and it’s finally sunk into my stubborn brain.”

  “Right now, we need to find these cattle thieves. Every day that goes by will make the local ranchers restless and trigger-happy.”

  “Where do we begin?”

  “I’ve been thinking about the best way to outsmart them. One is to search every canyon large enough to hold over one hundred fifty head or more of cattle, which could take a long time. The other is to deputize a couple of good men, send them out to the ranchers, and offer a reward for information leading to the rustlers. We could distribute posters around town and have the same announcement written up in the paper.”

  John stood and paced the wooden floor, his thoughts weighing each idea. “Let’s do it all. Something’s bound to turn up. The people of Rocky Falls need to know we’re doing the best we can. If they think we’re shirking, someone’s going to get hurt.” When Bob didn’t respond, John studied his weathered face. “Are you thinking we need to go see Bess?”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time Widow Bess helped us. She might have already heard something else we could use. And we both could use some supper.”

  “I thought your wife brought you food?”

  Bob stood from his chair. “She did, but after we got over our fussin’ about me being town marshal, it got cold.” He nodded toward the back door of the jail. “My wife is a good woman, but some of her cookin’ needs help. Cold liver and onions with dry cornbread is one of them. God forgive me, but I had to toss it out to the dog.”

  John laughed at the pitiful expression on Bob’s face, but a man needed good food to keep him going. Could Bert cook? John took a moment to reflect on the young woman’s abilities in the kitchen. A few tasty meals came to mind. Why was he thinking about Bert … in that way … when he didn’t know if he could trust her?

  The two men strode out of the marshal’s office and down the darkened street to the building that housed a hotel on one side and a saloon on the other. Quite handy for the soiled doves of Rocky Falls. Widow Bess had worked the hotel for years, mothering the girls employed there and urging them to leave their livelihood. If she didn’t own a stake in both businesses with a shrewd man, she’d have been fired years ago. As it was, the two owners barely spoke, each trying to buy out the other.

  The portly woman waved from behind the registration desk. “Evening Bob, John. You two hungry?”

  “We sure are,” Bob said.

  John swallowed a laugh and smelled the roast and potatoes. Liver and onions, whether hot or cold, weren’t his favorite. His stomach growled, and his mouth watered at the same time.

  “Have a seat, and I’ll be right with you. Just made fresh coffee, so I’ll get a couple of cups.” She made her way toward the kitchen, then swung around. “I bet you two are here on business.”

  “That we are,” Bob said. “Can you spare a few minutes?”

  She glanced around the dining area. A couple sat at one table and three men talked at another. “I’ll see what I can do. Heard something interesting since we talked about Leon.”

  Shortly thereafter, Bess waddled toward them with two steaming mugs of coffee and wearing a smile that would open the gates of heaven. “This must be about the cattle rustlin',” she said. “The place was buzzing like bees on rotten apples last night with all the talk.”

  John chuckled. Leave it to Bess to find something amusing about a dire situation. “Did you hear anything we can use?”

  She sobered. “Heard some talk about the boy you stopped from being hanged. A couple of men think he might be a diversion for rustlers.”

  John wished there was a way to free Bert from the list of suspects. “He’s a she, and she’s been at the ranch helping Mama.”

  Bess’s eyes widened. “That’s a twist of fate if I ever heard one.”

  John frowned, the reminder of the whole mess worsening his day. “I’ve made better decisions than bringing home a girl.”

  “I think it’s sad a little girl’s on her own.” Bess shook her head. “That’s how some of the women here ended up working at the saloon.”

  “She’s not a little girl,” John said. “Seventeen.”

  Bess blinked. “Ouch. Sounds like a sore subject, John Timmons. From the frown you’re wearing, I’d say you’ve seen happier days.”

  “Twenty-three years of ‘em.”

  Bob tried to disguise his laugh with a cough. “So what else have you heard?”

  Bess appeared to ponder the question. “Oh, the typical. Blaming ghosts, Indians, town drunk, various outlaws. Sounds like speculation to me.”

  “Nothing to hang your hat on, huh?” Bob rubbed his whiskered jaw.

  “One of the Wide O hands brought up Leon Wilson again.”

  “Maybe so.” John focused on reading Bess’s eyes. “He didn’t have time to put together a clever plan unless he had help.”

  She stared at him, then at Bob. “Help? As in a seventeen-year-old girl?”

  “If he and Bert were working together,” Bob said, “hanging her would have made him look good until he was ready to do something with the cattle.”

  John hadn’t considered that aspect. “Except he was fired. Was most of the talk about Leon and who might be working with him?”

  Bess nodded. “So the girl’s name is Bert?”

  “Yes ma’am.” John needed to get Bert off his ranch—away from those he loved. Or did he? “I’m wondering if my family’s safe. I need to make a few decisions about her.”

  “Get some food in your belly first,” Bess said. “Hard to figure out what’s the right thing to do when your stomach is protesting.”

  John and Bob talked through supper, tossing out suggestions about how best to proceed. Their ideas were as varied as how to pitch horseshoes at a church social. They paid their bill and thanked Bess for her help. Once they were outside the hotel, John felt his exhaustion clear through to his bones. But concern for his family weighed him down more. “I’m going back home tonight.”

  “I understand,” Bob said. “And in your boots, I’d feel the same. You don’t know if those cattle thieves are taking advantage of your being gone or if that gal is in the thick of it all. But you’re tuckered out. Why don’t you get a good night’s sleep and ride home tomorrow?”

  Loud voices rose from inside the saloon, and both men turned to check on the source. When nothing else was said, they walked toward the office. “You can bring her back here where we can keep an eye on her. Not sure where she’ll stay, but at least you won’t need to fret about your mama and brothers. In the morning I’ll send a telegram to Parker about needin’ a US Marshal. I’ll also pay a visit to the newspaper office about asking the community to help us find those thieves.”

  Bob’s suggestion sounded good enough to accept, but — “I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I’ll bring Bert with me in the morning. I’m hoping Bess can take her in. Before I get here, I’ll stop at the Wide O again. Oberlander and I talked today about deputizing a few of his ranch hands, and I’d like to take him up on the offer. I really want him to see that Bert’s no longer staying at the 5T.”

  Bob clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Parker would be proud of you. You think before you act.”

  Not always. Going to be hard not to see her every day. Harder yet to arrest her if she’s behind something illegal.

  CHAPTER 17

>   Bert listened to Leah’s deep, even breathing. The day had been long and disturbing. Every inch of her loathed the past she could not change. Six months ago, she’d wanted to start fresh, run free with hope for a new future. And yet her prospects of a better tomorrow looked impossible. Fleeing Simon had been so much easier before she met the Timmons family. If she cared so much for these loving people, why had she put them in possible danger? Every one of them held a special spot in her heart — John, Evan, Aaron, Mark, Davis, and Leah. Sweet Leah who had worked with Bert late into many a night in a painstaking effort to teach her how to read. The encouragement gave her confidence. Her reading improved, and the new words opened her mind to an exciting world.

  In a precious few weeks’ time, she’d found herself caring for a man and affection for an entire family.

  Cattle rustlers roamed the area, and dread filled her that the thieves might be Simon, Clint, and Lester. The lump in her throat rose. Surely Simon would not have talked her brothers into working this far north? And if they were in this area, did they know she was here too?

  One thought after another darted in and out of her mind. Maybe the thieves weren’t her brothers after all. Maybe it was Leon, the man who’d tried to hang her. After all, he made his anger clear when Mr. Oberlander fired him.

  The marshal from Rocky Falls had done a good job digging for the truth. She trembled still. Bert thought the man could read her mind, as though he knew she was an affliction to anyone who befriended her.

  Bert’s hand covered her mouth. She’d nearly moaned aloud. Misery did that to a person, made them hurt inside and out. The time had come to leave the 5T, and she needed to do it now. Maybe someday she’d meet another man as fine as John Timmons, a man who caused music in her heart and her fingers to dance on the strings of a fiddle.

  She remembered the other night when she’d been playing the fiddle. Leah began to sing “Shoo Fly Shoo,” when John took the fiddle from her.