“I don’t like him.”
“Who?”
Laurel nodded toward Sheriff Townsend who rode slowly from the shelter of the trees across the river, his head turned in the direction Chase had taken. Even from this distance, Kathryne could see the snarl on his face. “He’s a far cry from Sheriff Anders. Tom was a good man. A decent man. And a friend. He knew how to keep law and order. If he’d been alive when James died, I’d know who murdered my husband.”
“What happened to him?”
“He was killed. Shot in the back, just like my husband. Just before…before James. Townsend was deputy at the time. I didn’t like him then and my opinion hasn’t changed since.” She sighed as she took her seat and picked up her teacup. “Like with my James, Townsend spent no time trying to find out what happened to Sheriff Anders.”
She lowered her voice, even though they were alone. Kathryne leaned closer, curiosity making her heart thump and her pulse race. “James thought there was something suspicious about Tom’s death. They’d been friends for a long time, but when he started asking questions…well, we didn’t get any answers. A month later, I buried James. And when I asked questions, I was told not to worry my pretty little head.”
Laurel shivered, but not from the weather, and rubbed her palms against her arms. Her eyes took on a faraway quality and the expression on her face mirrored her anxiety. “Theirs aren’t the only unsolved murders. Joe Rawlins was killed a year ago and no one knows who killed him either.”
“I’m so sorry.” She reached across the table and patted Laurel’s hand, which seemed cold beneath her own. “Did Townsend threaten you in any way?”
“No, nothing like that.” As if realizing she’d spoken aloud and revealed something she shouldn’t, Laurel blinked rapidly and shook her head. She forced a smile to her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes, which remained haunted and sad. “Forget I said anything, Kate. Promise me.”
Realizing how afraid Laurel was, Kathryne promised to forget every word then took a sip of her tea, but curiosity burned in her. For a small town, there seemed to be too many unsolved murders and at least one person who knew all the secrets.
Chapter Seven
“Be careful walking home.”
“I will.” Kathryne returned the hug Laurel gave her, said good night and walked across the street to the town square, a small napkin-covered bowl of beef stew in her hand—leftovers from dinner Laurel insisted she take. The clock on the town hall read 9:30 and she realized she’d stayed later than intended, but she had enjoyed the company.
In Washington, the social scene was just getting into full swing at this time. In sleepy Crystal Springs, the opposite was true. Most folks were turning in for the night and the streets were empty. Lanterns burned in a few windows, but didn’t provide much light. Neither did the moon, covered as it was by a passing cloud.
A slight breeze made the evergreen trees around the gazebo sway. The cool briskness in the air she’d felt this morning returned. Kathryne grabbed the edges of her shawl around her neck and pulled them tighter, holding the garment closed with her fisted hand. A shiver raced down her spine, not only because of the chill, but because she shouldn’t be out alone. The mournful hoot of an owl caused goosebumps to pebble her skin and the sudden bark of a dog made her jump. She quickened her pace across the street and stepped onto the raised sidewalk in front of Graham’s General Store, her footsteps loud in the silence.
As she rounded the corner, Kathryne realized not everyone had turned in for the night. Light and the raucous notes of a piano spilled from the batwing doors of Riley’s Saloon but instead of making her feel safer, the opposite was true. She’d heard about the men who spent their time there. Rough and tumble ranch hands from Willow Creek, the biggest ranch in the area, and from some of the smaller ranches, too, congregated at the saloon every Friday and Saturday night to spend their hard-earned money on drink and women.
The sidewalk in front of the saloon remained empty but Kathryne didn’t trust her luck. She took a deep breath and crossed the street again, her gaze glued to Riley’s. Another five minutes, if she kept up this quick pace, and she’d be at the cottage on the hill.
“Well, lookie here, Shep. If it ain’t the new schoolteacher.” A man Kathryne didn’t know stepped out of the alley between Stagmeier’s Bakery and Gleason’s Barber Shop to block her path. A surprised squeak issued from her suddenly dry throat. As he came closer, she smelled the sweat and whiskey and cigar smoke coming from him. Perspiration stained his shirt as well as his hat. His trousers were so filthy they could have stood up by themselves.
“An’ she brought us sumpin’.” Another man, taller than the first and just as dirty, joined his companion and made a grab for the bowl in her hand. Without a second thought, Kathryne relinquished the food—leftover beef stew wasn’t worth fighting over. He, too, reeked of bad hygiene. And perfume, as if someone had dumped a bottle over his head to hide his rankness. The combination made nausea twist her stomach, not only from the smell, but because the intentions of these two men were clear. Fear filled her mouth with the taste of copper. She could defend herself against one man with a well-placed kick of her pointy-toed shoe, but two?
Forcing bravado she didn’t feel, she tried to remain calm as she attempted to push past them though every muscle in her body shrieked “run.” Those same muscles refused to obey the command. “Excuse me, please.”
Neither man would let her pass. Indeed, they closed in, crowding, backing her toward the alley from where they’d come. Kathryne backed a step then two, the opening to the passageway between buildings filled with darkness. If she allowed them to push her in there…
She didn’t finish the thought. Her heart pounded in her chest but she’d be damned if she let these two bully her. Kathryne opened her mouth, ready to scream for help, but a third man stepped out of the shadows and grabbed her arm, swinging her around to face him. A scar puckered the skin around his right eye…or where his right eye should have been. The scream building in her chest died. Her entire body shook violently.
“Where ya goin’ in such a hurry, little lady?” He grinned, pulling the thin skin around his eye socket, the effect grotesque and frightening.
Kathryne tried to pull away, but the iron grip on her arm couldn’t be broken. She glanced at the other two men. No help would come from that quarter. Indeed, they were grinning too, mouths spread wide with obvious glee.
“Let me go,” she demanded, but her voice, instead of commanding, came out as a mere whisper, barely heard above the frantic pounding of her own heart.
The man laughed as his fingers dug into the skin and pulled her closer. “Come on, give us a smooch.” The stench coming from his mouth made her want to vomit. “Doncha wanna spend some time with ol’ Beau?”
“Let her go, Canady, or no one will be spending time with ol’ Beau.” The click of the hammer being drawn back on a pistol accompanied the harsh words.
Kathryne recognized the voice and turned her head slightly. Chase stood in the street, not five feet away, a pistol trained on Beau. Relief surged through her, so fierce in its power, her knees buckled. If it hadn’t been for Beau’s tight grip on her arm, she would have melted to the sidewalk.
Beau released her, but not before he dug his fingers into her soft skin. Kathryne stumbled, but saved herself from falling as Beau raised his hands slowly and took a step back. His companions dropped the bowl of beef stew. The ceramic broke, scattering the contents on the sidewalk and the men scurried into the darkness rather than tempt fate.
Chase held out his free hand toward her, but his gaze never left Beau Canady’s face. “Katie.”
Kathryne needed no second invitation. She stepped off the raised sidewalk and walked to his side on legs that trembled. She slipped her hand into his, already comforted by his presence, by the fact that he’d saved her once again.
“Say goodnight to the lady, Beau.”
“This ain’t over, Hunter,” the man mumbled as his han
ds slowly dropped to his sides and the pistols resting in his holster.
Chase grinned and his hand tightened around hers. The gun in his other hand didn’t waver. Kathryne knew if he pulled the trigger, the bullet would strike Beau between the eyes. “It could be. I could just shoot you where you stand. Your choice. I haven’t killed anyone in a while and my finger’s getting a bit itchy on this trigger.”
Beau’s hands moved away from the holster but his eyes glittered with rage. “Watch yerself, Hunter.” With that growled warning, he disappeared into the alley.
“Are you all right?” Chase uncocked the pistol and slipped it into the holster slung low around his hips.
Kathryne nodded though tears formed in her eyes. She rubbed her arm where Beau’s fingers had cruelly dug into her skin. Tomorrow she’d have bruises, but for now, she remained grateful Chase had come along when he did. Her voice shook, indeed, her entire body shuddered. “I’m all right. Just a little scared. Who were those men?”
“Willow Creek ranch hands. The one with the missing eye is Beau Canady. The other two are Shep Turner and Roy Benedict.” He studied her in the moonlight, the gleam in his eyes missing nothing. He reached out and smoothed his thumb along her cheek, as if he couldn’t stop himself from touching her.
Kathryne leaned into his caress. “Thank you. I don’t know what would have…” The words died in her throat. She knew exactly what would have happened if he hadn’t come along when he did. “I—I…”
In an instant, she was in his arms, her face pressed against the hard planes of his chest as a torrent of tears wet his shirt. He held her, his strong arms tight around her, offering comfort. “You’re all right, Katie. Those men will never accost you again. You have my word.” He pulled away and gazed into her face. “Let’s get you home.”
He released her then, picked up the pieces of Laurel’s bowl from the raised wooden sidewalk and placed them all in the napkin. “What are you doing out so late?”
“I stayed too long at Laurel’s.”
“I see.” He placed her hand in the crook of his arm. Kathryne fell into step beside him as they strolled through the sleepy town toward the schoolhouse and her little cottage on the hill. Despite his presence, her stomach still twisted with fear and she couldn’t help studying the shadows.
“What are you doing out so late?” she asked as she stole a glance in his direction. Moonlight struck his face. The smile parting his lips nearly took her breath.
“Taking a walk,” he said, but didn’t elaborate.
“Why is it you suddenly appear just when I need you the most? I haven’t seen you in weeks and yet, the moment I’m in a spot of trouble, there you are.”
Chase chuckled, the sound rising up from his chest and filling her with a sense of well-being, finally easing the nausea that rippled her stomach. “Fate? Luck? Good fortune? Or perhaps, misfortune?”
He stopped at her gate and opened it for her, but Kathryne didn’t want him to leave. “May I offer you a cup of coffee?”
Flickers of doubt made his brows draw together. “Are you sure, Katie? Remember who and what I am.”
She smiled and squeezed his arm. “Yes, Chase, I’m sure. It’s just coffee. A reward for saving me.” Weariness crept into his soft gray eyes, his muscles tightened as his body stiffened. She reassured him with, “We can sit on the porch, in full view of anyone who might happen by.”
“That might be worse, Katie. The last thing you want is someone to see us together.”
“Please? I don’t want to be alone just yet. Those men…”
Kathryne knew the moment he made up his mind. The tension eased from him and a smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “All right. One cup of coffee.” He took her arm again and led her up the walkway. “Wait here.” He opened the front door and let himself into the dark house.
Kathryne stood in the doorway and waited while Chase lit a match so he could see. He whispered a surprised oath as his shin connected with the old trunk they’d found in the attic some time ago. Kathryne cringed. She should have moved that trunk, but truthfully, she didn’t quite know where to put it. No matter where she moved it, the chest seemed to be in the way. “There are sconces on the wall to your right on either side of the fireplace and a kerosene lamp on the small desk to your left.”
Once a warm glow dispelled the darkness, Kathryne entered the house but stayed in the parlor as Chase strode to the kitchen, his boot heels loud on the hardwood floor.
“You can come in now. It’s safe.”
Kathryne dropped her reticule on the desk and made her way to the kitchen. “Please.” She gestured to one of the chairs as she pushed kindling into the stove and filled the coffeepot with water from the spout at the sink. She added ground coffee, carefully measuring out the amount then set the pot on the stove.
She felt his gaze on her as she bustled around the kitchen, the warmth of his stare making her nervous and clumsier than she should have been. He didn’t speak for the longest time, seemed content to just watch her as she slipped into a chair at the table opposite him.
“Tell me again why you were out so late,” he said, filling the comfortable silence. “How did you run into Canady and his boys?”
Kathryne shrugged. “I had dinner with Laurel and Walter. We had the fish he caught. He was so proud. Thank you for taking the time to instruct him.” She traced the pattern in the grains of wood on the table with her finger. “I didn’t intend to stay so late, but you know how it is. One conversation leads to another and another and before I knew it, the whole evening had come and gone.”
She stood, but continued speaking over her shoulder as she gathered cups and saucers from the shelves and brought them to the table. “I enjoy her company and I adore Walter. Besides Emy and Terrence, she’s the only friend I have here. I think she’s been very lonely since her husband died.”
“How did he pass?”
“He was murdered. Shot in the back.”
“When?” The question came out almost strangled, as if he had a hard time asking.
“Eight months ago, about a month after Sheriff Anders was killed the same way. Laurel said her husband had been asking questions about the sheriff’s murder and the next thing she knew, she was burying him.”
Kathryne glanced over her shoulder and saw him sit up straighter. No longer relaxed, concern etched his handsome face. “Did they ever catch the man responsible?”
She shook her head. “Sheriff Townsend didn’t seem to care and when Laurel starting asking questions, she was told not to worry her pretty little head. I don’t believe Townsend is very good at his job as James’ and Sheriff Anders murders aren’t the only ones unsolved in Crystal Springs. Mrs. Rawlins at the boarding house lost her husband about a year ago.” Though she promised Laurel she wouldn’t repeat what the woman had told her, she trusted Chase.
She poured coffee, handed him his cup and took her seat once again. With a touch of anxiety, Kathryne watched him take a sip.
He choked on the brew.
It was bitter, no matter what she did. Heat rose from her chest to warm her neck and face as her hands clutched her cup. “I’m sorry. It’s not very good. I’m still learning how to use the stove. And cook. And make a decent pot of coffee.” She pushed the sugar bowl and a can of condensed milk toward him. “Maybe this will help.”
“No, it’s fine.” Chase insisted and to prove it, took another sip. His lips twisted into a grimace once again. “Oh, I take it back, Katie. I’ve had bad coffee before but this…this will curl your hair.” He grinned. “If you wouldn’t mind, I can show you how to make coffee.”
“No, please do.” Kathryne laughed with him, although feelings of inadequacy jumbled in her head. She couldn’t help herself. She had to explain why at the age of twenty-five, she couldn’t brew a simple pot of coffee. “Mother didn’t let me near the stove after I singed off my eyebrows when I was eight so I never learned how to cook. I love a good cup of coffee, but I can barely tolerate the stuff I mak
e. Either it’s too weak or it’s too bitter.”
She watched him just as intently as he had watched her and couldn’t help wondering about the man. He instructed her as he had instructed Walter earlier in the day—with patience, tolerance and good humor, so at odds with the reputation he carried around town.
“Canady?” Chase prompted as he poured fresh coffee into their cups a short time later and brought them to the table.
Kathryne took her seat once more. “They came out of the shadows between the bakery and the barber shop. I tried to push past them, but they wouldn’t let me.” A shudder rippled through her as she recalled their rank odor and their intentions, which gleamed so wickedly in their eyes. “I thought…I knew what they wanted and it wasn’t Laurel’s stew. When Beau grabbed me, that’s when you came along. And I’m so thankful you did.”
“It’s all right now,” he said, his voice calm though she sensed the anger beneath his words. “They won’t bother you again. I’ll see to it.”
She believed him. With effort, she stilled her trembling hands and took a sip of coffee. “Oh, now that’s heaven. Where did you learn to make coffee so well?”
He didn’t answer. He simply watched her, piercing her with the intensity of his eyes, which were no longer a soft gray, but more like polished pewter. No smile twitched the corners of his mouth as he reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “What are you doing here, Katie?”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t belong here. You belong in New York or San Francisco, not this godforsaken town in the middle of nowhere. You belong at balls and soirees and the opera. It’s evident in the clothes you wear, the way you speak, the way you carry yourself.” He released her hand. Intense and forceful, he seemed to be staring into her soul, into her heart. “Go back to where you came from.” His voice hardened as his eyes narrowed. “Now.”
Startled, Kathryne didn’t know how to respond, but his attitude rankled. Deep in her bones. Beneath his steady stare, heat rose to her face. Who was he to tell her what to do? Order her to go home? He wasn’t her father. He wasn’t her husband. He had no right. And she didn’t have to listen.
A Good Man for Katie Page 8