The 12 Brides of Summer Novella Collection 1

by Susan Page Davis

  With renewed hope, Joe took a seat on a bench just outside the office and waited for Detective Simms.

  A few minutes later, Simms came around, wearing a suit and bowler hat and carrying a small leather bag. He spotted Joe and stopped on the boardwalk. “Hello, Logan. Heading east today?”

  “Yes. That is, unless you’ve recovered my parcel.”

  “Hmm, I don’t recall anything like what you described yesterday, but we can go over to the bank and take a look if you wish.” Simms pulled out his watch and opened it. “There’s time if we don’t dawdle.” He poked his head into Colson’s office. “Dan, I’m taking Mr. Logan round to the bank. I’ll be back.”

  “Right,” Colson said.

  The banker obliged them by bringing out the box of items the lawmen had recovered from Ed Robbins’s house, minus the cash.

  “The railroad’s orders are to return cash claimed on a prorated basis. You’ll have to file a claim for that at the office.”

  “I did that, thanks.” Joe poked through the box. “I don’t see my wallet, or the parcel.”

  “How about those watches? Is one of them yours?”

  Simms and Joe pulled four pocket watches from the hoard, but none of them was right. All were of distinctive designs, and three bore engraved names or initials.

  “Those are all better than the cheap one I was carrying.” Joe placed the last one back in Simms’s hand.

  “Well, they may have emptied all the wallets and purses into a general fund and then divided it,” Simms said. “I didn’t see your Miss Neal’s coin purse, either. Do you know if she filed a form for the cash she lost?”

  “Yes, I’m sure she did.”

  “What was in this parcel you’re so keen on?” Simms asked.

  Joe huffed out a breath. “It’s a little embarrassing, but I don’t know, exactly.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I was delivering it for an attorney. He didn’t tell me what it was, but it was some sort of inheritance for the recipient—a woman. I had the idea it was jewelry.”

  “There’s a few pieces in there, but we know this isn’t nearly all of the loot.” Simms fished a bracelet and several rings from the box.

  Joe shook his head. “I wish I knew for sure what I was carrying. I was just the messenger, you see.”

  “Might be worth stopping over a day and asking the lawyer to wire a description. And who knows? The marshal might catch the rest of the gang and get back some more of the stuff.”

  “That’s a thought,” Joe said. Either way, it wouldn’t hurt him to spend another day in Cheyenne, and he admitted to himself that the possibility of looking up Ava and her friends appealed strongly to him. “I’ll do it.”

  Simms nodded and signaled to the banker that they were finished with the box. “As for me, I’ve got to get on the train in a few minutes. We’ll be more vigilant than ever since this latest holdup. There’ll be two of us on the outgoing train, in addition to the express agent in the express car—though I don’t expect the robbers to hit us again so soon.”

  “They might,” Joe said. “If they’re smart, they’ll hit you when you least expect it.”

  “True.” Simms smiled grimly as they stepped out onto the sidewalk. “Dan Colson, over at the railroad office, was impressed by your drawings. They were instrumental in identifying Robbins, you know.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “They’ll probably place them in evidence for when he goes to trial.” As they talked, they walked toward the train station. Colson’s door was open, and when they reached it, Simms paused and looked in.

  “I’ll be boarding as soon as the train pulls in, Dan.”

  Mr. Colson looked up from his desk. “All right. Logan, did you find what you were looking for?”

  “No, sir, but Simms suggested I wire the sender and ask for a description of the contents of his parcel, in case the outlaws opened the parcel and dumped it in with the rest of the stuff.”

  “Good idea.” Colson rose and came to the doorway. “Say, Logan, you’ve got a good eye. We can use observant men like you. Not looking for work, are you?”

  “With the railroad?”

  “Sure. The pay’s good, and the work’s steady. Right, Simms?”

  The detective chuckled. “Oh, it’s steady, all right. There’s the train. See you later, Dan.” He strode off toward the ticket window as a locomotive’s whistle cut the air.

  Joe watched him walk away and turned to face Mr. Colson. “I’m interested, sir.”

  Colson nodded. “Terrific. Have you ever been arrested, son?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Good. I suppose you were too young to serve during the war.”

  “I joined up the last year, as soon as I turned eighteen. First Connecticut Infantry.”

  “Can you give me a couple of references for general character?”

  Joe did some quick thinking. He wouldn’t dare put down Mr. Becker after his recent failure for Becker and Fixx, but there was a Hartford accountant he had done several small jobs for, and he was in good standing with his landlady. He could approximate an address for his old sergeant, too. “Yes, I can.”

  “Better and better. You go send your wire and come back here. We’ll talk. If things work out, maybe I can send you on the westbound first thing in the morning, with one of our detectives. You’d be gone overnight. It would let you get a feel for the job. What do you say? One of our most experienced men will be on that train.”

  “It sounds good.”

  Colson handed him a pencil and a sheet of paper. “Write down your references, so I can send a couple of wires. What town did you say you’re from?”

  “Hartford, Connecticut, sir.”

  “Right. I’ll contact their police department, too. Standard part of the hiring process.” He watched Joe keenly.

  “I wouldn’t expect any less, sir.”

  Colson smiled. “Good. Now, do you have a sidearm?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Hmm, I’ll ask Detective Allen if he can lend you one.” Colson took the paper on which Joe had written the names of the people he thought would vouch for him. “Come back here in a couple of hours, and maybe we can talk some more.”

  Joe headed for the telegraph office feeling better about his prospects than he had in a long time. And to be able to stay out here in the West—he’d never expected anything like this to happen. He was sorry he’d lost Becker’s package, but maybe some good would come of it.

  And there was Miss Neal. He didn’t dare hope the railroad would allow him to stay in Cheyenne long, but there was always a chance he would meet up with her again.

  Chapter 5

  Ava tried not to stare, but wherever she turned some colorful new sight met her gaze. Men were leading sleek horses to the stock pens while soldiers set up targets for the shooting contest. Vendors called out to the passersby in hopes of selling everything from glasses of switchel to firecrackers.

  “Not like back home, is it?” Polly asked with a laugh.

  “No, not at all.” Back in Massachusetts, Independence Day was celebrated with enthusiasm, too, but it had a certain serenity and dignity about it. Ladies strolled about on the arms of their beaux or husbands, showing off their summer bonnets and sipping lemonade. The speeches were applauded calmly, and the fireworks were saved for evening. Boys who broke that rule by setting off firecrackers and scaring the horses were reprimanded severely. Here, everyone seemed to expect a small explosion at least every minute, and the livestock didn’t seem too upset by it.

  Jacob, like most business owners except the saloonkeepers, had closed his office for the day. No freight runs on the Fourth of July. The entire town seemed to have put business aside and thronged the celebration area. Jacob carried the baby, while Polly and Ava took turns holding on to Harry Clyde’s hand.

  “There’s the pastor,” Jacob said, nodding to where several men stood talking.

  “Let’s introduce Ava.” The warmth in Polly’s voice ma
de Ava suspicious.

  Jacob was agreeable, and so they ambled toward the group.

  “Well hello, Tierneys,” called a man of about forty. He wore a conservative suit and a ribbon tie.

  “Morning, Pastor.” Jacob led them over. “This young lady is Polly’s friend from Massachusetts, Miss Neal. She took the train out here to visit us. Ava, this is Pastor Worth.”

  “Welcome,” the minister said, smiling at Ava. “That’s quite a journey you undertook.”

  “It was interesting,” Ava said. “I’m glad you have the railroad now. It really wasn’t too arduous, compared to the trip Polly made when she first came out here with her parents.”

  The two men Pastor Worth had been conversing with were younger than he was, and both watched Ava with interest while she spoke.

  “Allow me to introduce two of our church members,” the pastor said, nodding toward them. “Hap Leland works at one of the local ranches, and Bill Ingram is employed at the mercantile on Central Avenue.”

  “How do you do, gentlemen?” Both returned her greeting heartily. Ava felt her face flush. Was this the reason for Polly’s eagerness to show her around?

  “Glad you had a safe journey, ma’am.” Bill ducked his head and glanced at her then swiftly away.

  “Well, it’s not like she wasn’t on the train when that outlaw gang held it up,” Jacob said.

  “You wasn’t!” Hap’s eyebrows rose.

  Bill muttered, “Good gracious.”

  “I see you came through the ordeal unscathed,” the pastor said.

  “Yes. No one was hurt so far as I know,” Ava said. “We passengers are all a little lighter in our purses, I’m afraid.”

  Jacob shifted little Amelia to his other arm. “I heard last night they’d caught one of the robbers.”

  “Perhaps some of the stolen goods will be recovered,” the pastor said.

  “I got held up once,” Hap put in. “Was on the stage from Salt Lake. You ever get held up, Jacob?”

  “Once or twice, a few years back, when I was working for the Overland,” Jacob said. “But that’s not a very pleasant topic for the ladies. What’s on the agenda for today?”

  “Governor Campbell will speak at noon, over at the Methodist Church,” Pastor Worth said.

  Ava glanced at Polly. “How exciting! Will we get to meet the governor?”

  “I expect so,” Polly said. “He’s generally quite sociable at events like this.”

  “My father will be so impressed.” Ava smiled at the minister. “You see, he told my mother this trip would be educational for me—and he was right, in so many ways.”

  “Did you tell ’em about the train robbery?” Bill asked.

  Jacob glared at him, but Ava didn’t mind the question.

  “It’s all right, Jacob. And the answer is, not yet. I wrote them a nice long letter yesterday, telling them I’d arrived safely and all about Polly and her family and their home, but I left out a few things, you might say. I’ll probably tell them when I go home. I don’t really want to keep it from them, but I know my mother would worry about me if she heard it now, and I’m not close enough for her to prod all over and make sure I’m still in one piece.”

  All the adults laughed, but by this time Harry Clyde was getting quite fidgety and pulling against Polly’s firm grip.

  “We’d better take this little fellow to see the horses,” Polly said.

  “Horses,” Harry Clyde shouted.

  “All right, young man.” Jacob looked at the others. “See you later.”

  “If any of you gentlemen wish to join us at noon, you’re welcome,” Polly said.

  “Thank you,” Pastor Worth replied. “My wife is about here somewhere. She packed us a lunch, but if she hasn’t promised anyone else, we’ll be happy to eat with you.”

  “I might catch up to you,” Hap said.

  “I told the boss I’d eat with him and the missus.” Bill was clearly unhappy to make the pronouncement, his gaze resting on Ava.

  “Well, it was nice meeting you,” she said and walked away with Polly and Jacob.

  “They’re both nice young men,” Polly assured her. “Especially Bill, but he’s on the shy side.”

  “Hap’s all right, too,” Jacob added. “I suppose he’d seem a little wild if you set him down in Boston, but ranch life does that to a man.”

  “You two know I didn’t come out here looking for a husband, don’t you?” Ava asked sternly.

  Jacob laughed. “Is that right? From what Polly’s been saying these last few weeks, I had the opposite impression.”

  “Hush, you!” Polly glared at him and then chuckled. “I’m sorry, Ava. I’ll try not to foist too many young men on you, especially not ones who aren’t of the first water. But there is one fellow I want you to meet—”

  “Not Neil Conyers,” Jacob said.

  Polly stopped walking. “Yes, Neil Conyers. What’s wrong with him?” To Ava she said quickly, “He’s a blacksmith.”

  “He’s from Alabama.”

  “So?”

  Jacob shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t suppose she’d want to attach herself to someone from the South.”

  Polly turned to Ava with eyebrows raised. “My dear, you recall the late unpleasantness between the North and South?”

  “Uh. . .yes,” Ava replied, not sure whether to laugh or not.

  “Well, it makes no difference to me—or to Jacob”—she shot her husband a meaningful look—“where a man hails from. But if you don’t fancy a southern accent. . .”

  “Mr. Conyers can’t be too prejudiced toward the South if he’s voluntarily left it for Wyoming Territory,” Ava said.

  “My thinking exactly.” Polly nodded in triumph.

  Jacob raised his free hand in surrender. “Fine. And Neil is a nice fellow. But I can’t always understand what he’s saying, his accent’s so thick.”

  “We’ll let Ava be the judge of that.” Polly took her friend’s arm and began walking toward the stock pens. “If you see him, Jacob, be sure to invite him to eat with us.”

  “The way things are going, we’ll have an army to feed out of your lunch basket,” Jacob said with a tolerant smile. “But then, you always pack enough to feed a regiment.”

  Ava said nothing, but in her mind, she knew none of the young men on Polly’s list could quite match her standard. And what was that standard? To her surprise, it wasn’t Will Sandford who came to mind, but a certain blue-eyed man she had met on the train from St. Louis.

  Joe walked with Jacob Tierney down the board sidewalk until it ended and they stepped down to street level.

  “I walk to the stage stop every day, because it’s so close,” Jacob said, “but I suppose it’s a mile from your hotel.”

  “That’s all right,” Joe assured him. Two days had passed since he had been hired by the railroad, and much of the intervening time had been spent sitting in either a passenger car or an express car, which carried freight as well as safes for valuables.

  “We’ll have to make sure we don’t keep you too late.” Jacob gestured toward a small frame house set back from the street. “There it is, home sweet home.”

  “It looks comfortable.”

  “It is, though it wasn’t much more than a shack when we first bought it. Polly’s pa helped me fix it up.”

  Joe followed him around to the back stoop. His host didn’t knock, but opened the door and entered the warm, lamp-lit kitchen.

  “Hey, Polly, what’s to eat?” he called.

  Polly came to him, laughing. “I told Ava you’d say that.”

  “Papa!” Harry Clyde ran toward them and launched himself into Jacob’s arms.

  “Well, hello yourself, kid.” Jacob tossed the little boy in the air and then set him down and gave Polly a quick kiss. He looked at Ava, who stood near the cookstove. “Ava.” He stepped aside so the ladies could see his guest. “Look who I found at the station when I got back from Horse Creek. He was kicking his heels and looking hungry, so I drag
ged him on home for supper.”

  “We’ve got plenty.” Polly wiped her hands on her apron and stepped forward. “Mr. Logan, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Good to see you again.” Joe took her outstretched hand for a moment. “I hope it’s no bother.”

  “Not a bit,” Polly said.

  Joe looked beyond her, and his gaze settled on Ava. She stood with a wooden spoon in her hand, a patchwork apron tied about her waist. Her auburn hair was pulled back with a green satin ribbon, and she stared at him but lowered her eyes when she caught his gaze. His pulse surged, and he realized he’d been anticipating this moment all day.

  “Miss Neal,” he managed to say smoothly.

  “Mr. Logan, I’m so glad you came. We had no idea you were still in town. Or have you been to San Francisco and back already?” She set down the spoon and came toward him, her eyes bright.

  “I’ve been partway there and back again. Changed my mind about heading east the other day.”

  “I’ve wondered how your business turned out,” Ava said. “Perhaps you can tell us over supper.”

  “I’d be happy to.”

  Jacob showed him where he could wash up. When they had settled at the table a few minutes later, Joe enjoyed Polly and Ava’s cooking.

  “That’s the best meat loaf I’ve had since I left Hartford,” he said.

  “Thank you,” Polly said. “And Mr. Logan, I understand I owe you my thanks.”

  “What for?”

  “Ava said that without your help, I wouldn’t have received Grandma Winfield’s brooch.”

  “Oh, that. I was happy I could do it and that we succeeded in thwarting the outlaws on a small scale. But won’t you call me Joe? I wish you all would.” His gaze lingered on Ava, and her cheeks seemed to go a shade pinker, but she was smiling.

  “And you’ve no word on the items you lost?” she asked.

  “Not yet, but my former employer did send a description of the articles in the parcel, so that I’ll be able to identify them positively if they’re found.”

  “What was it?” Polly put a hand to her mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ask.”