Judith Pella, Tracie Peterson - [Ribbons West 03]

by Ties That Bind

  Later as they were seated at dinner in the finest restaurant Laramie could boast, Jordana was disappointed to be interrupted by a sugary-sweet greeting.

  “Why, isn’t it Brenton Baldwin?” Isabella Montego oozed, not recognizing Jordana. “We met in Wadsworth. You remember Mr. Baldwin, don’t you, Father?”

  Jordana looked up to find Isabella attired in one of her usual low-cut gowns. This gown, an exquisite shade of blue, trimmed in gold, was styled with a neckline that Jordana would have thought scandalous even for Isabella.

  Baxter Montego stepped forward. “Mr. Baldwin, it is a pleasure. How are things in the photography world?”

  “Slow right now. The winter weather makes it most difficult.”

  “Ah yes.” Montego eyed Jordana with a look of curiosity. “And is this your lovely wife? I don’t recall that she had such dark hair.”

  “No, of course it isn’t his wife,” Isabella purred as though she’d caught Brenton in some horrible act.

  “This is my sister, Jordana,” Brenton offered.

  “Good evening,” Jordana said before either Montego could speak.

  Father and daughter exchanged a peculiar glance. Perhaps it was only that they noted her uncanny resemblance to Joe. She was sure of it when Isabella spoke.

  “My, but you look like your other brother,” Isabella replied. “What was his name? Joe?”

  “Yes, people often have taken us for twins, but he is younger by two years,” Jordana replied, thankful for the bonnet that covered her short hair.

  “Won’t you join us?” Brenton asked.

  Jordana kicked him under the table for forcing her to endure an evening of Isabella Montego, but said nothing as the pair agreed and took the seats opposite Jordana and Brenton at the table.

  “Twins, eh?” Baxter Montego said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Must make it difficult for you.”

  “Not at all really. He is a wonderful brother.” Jordana smiled sweetly.

  “My sister has just been returned after being captured by Indians,” Brenton said. “We are celebrating her safe escape.”

  “You were taken by the Indians? What a horrible ordeal that must have been,” Montego said while Isabella leaned over to speak conspiratorially to Brenton. The ample display of bosom left Jordana feeling more and more at odds with the woman.

  “They worked me like a beast but otherwise did me no harm, thank God,” Jordana replied.

  “But Rich O’Brian, ever devoted to my sister, rescued her,” put in Brenton. “He would have been here tonight, but he had to go on ahead to Ogden. You do remember Mr. O’Brian, don’t you?”

  “Of course. He is a dear friend,” Isabella said with a seductive emphasis on the words “dear” and “friend.”

  “It wasn’t the first time Mr. O’Brian had to rescue Jordana,” Brenton laughed. “And I don’t imagine it’ll be the last. They’ve been friends much too long to go separate ways for long.”

  “But perhaps Mr. O’Brian will marry another one day,” Isabella said, her comment full of innuendo.

  Her father laughed heartily. “He will if you have anything to say about it, my darling.”

  Jordana’s skin tingled. And it was not merely at the idea that Rich might marry someone like Isabella. There was something else. That laugh.

  That was the same laugh she had heard in the Indian camp!

  With a shock that made her nearly drop her glass, she realized Baxter Montego was the man who had paid the Indians to take her away. She quickly averted her eyes, afraid to meet his gaze, but it was impossible. And then, upon considering it, she knew it would only give her away if she ignored the man. If he had read her journal, he must certainly know who she was. Of course, he could not reveal himself because that would indicate his guilt. But a sudden knot in her stomach made her certain he would not let the matter drop. Trying to pretend that nothing had happened, she looked at Montego and smiled.

  He smiled in return, apparently none the wiser to her revelation.

  22

  “He must know it’s me,” Jordana told Brenton. “The thing is, I don’t know if he realizes that I know it’s him.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Brenton said, falling over himself to get their things collected from the adjoining hotel rooms. “He’ll be a threat to your well-being. We need to get to Ogden and tell Rich what’s going on.”

  Jordana eyed her brother with a hint of amusement. “And where do you propose for us to get transportation at this hour? It’s nearly midnight.”

  “I guess we’ll rent a couple of horses. You still have that Indian pony down at the livery.”

  “It’s the middle of winter,” Jordana reminded him, nearly laughing out loud as Brenton tripped over the carpetbag he’d recently purchased for her.

  Brenton paused and seemed to consider her words for a moment. “They’ll try to kill you if we stay here. You can put Montego away for what he did to you. We can’t stay, even if it means facing the elements. We’ll just buy the bedding from the hotel, and you can wear some of my trousers—at least that won’t be a departure for you. Anyway, the snow melted off pretty well this morning. It can’t be that cold outside if the snow can’t keep.”

  Jordana nodded dubiously, feeling just a bit odd trying to talk Brenton out of a harebrained scheme for a change. “I know it’s warmed up some, but, Brenton, there’s nothing out there. Short of the railroad, this is very desolate country. There are some farms and ranches, but they are few and far between.”

  “Then we’ll stick to the railroad.” He began shoving the remainder of his things into his own bag. “Wait a minute!” he declared, turning to Jordana. “There’s probably going to be a supply freight heading out sometime soon. You know they keep the supplies moving at a steady pace down the line. We’ll go to the depot.”

  “That might work,” Jordana agreed. “But, Brenton, you’re going to have to calm down. I’ve been through worse.”

  He took hold of her and hugged her tight. “I know, and I can hardly bear the thought.”

  “Don’t feel bad about it.” She said, reaching up to tenderly push back the sandy brown hair that had fallen into his face. “I’m no worse for the wear. It’s the life I’ve chosen. The life I feel happy in. Think of the adventures I can someday tell my children.”

  “If you live that long,” Brenton said, squeezing her hand. “I just couldn’t bear to lose you, sis. You’re as stubborn as anyone I’ve ever met, and I know you’re very capable. But you aren’t indestructible.”

  “True, but none of us are,” Jordana replied. “You know how I feel about it. I trust that God is watching over me every step of the way. I feel His presence in my life, and when I stray from Him, I feel that too. Don’t fret over me. When my time comes, it will be God and God alone who leads me home.”

  Brenton hugged her close again. “I know. I admire your faith, your belief that no matter what happens to you, God has already directed the outcome. I wish I could be stronger in that. Caitlan is always telling me to be more optimistic, but I feel I fail so often.”

  “You are one of those people who takes life much too seriously,” Jordana said with a grin. She pushed away from her brother and let him see her smile. “Sometimes life is just plain funny and you have to learn to know when to laugh at it.”

  Three hours later they sat sandwiched between crates of chickens inside a freight car. With their knees tucked under their chins and hardly any room to breathe, Brenton turned to Jordana with a grave expression.

  “Is this one of those times we laugh?” he asked wryly.

  This sent a ripple of mirth throughout Jordana’s cramped frame. She began to giggle and then to laugh and soon was gasping for breath in hysterical peals. “Yes, brother dear,” she barely managed to say, “this is definitely one of those times.”

  ——

  Baxter Montego frowned at the hotel clerk’s announcement.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but the Baldwins have already checked out.”

&nb
sp; Montego moved several coins across the top of the counter. “Can you tell me when they departed? Where they might be headed?”

  “No, sir. I can’t say that I know. My pa might know. He would have been the one to see to it. Hold on a minute.”

  Baxter waited while the young man went in search of his father. Turning to Isabella, he grimaced. “These Baldwins have become quite a liability.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t realize your part in the matter,” Isabella said.

  “Then why their hasty departure?”

  “She mentioned at dinner that they both needed to get back to Sacramento. I believe their sister-in-law is about to have a baby. At least that was my understanding. It’s probably nothing more than they decided to check out early and take seats on the first passenger train west.”

  “You were askin’ about the Baldwins?” a rough-looking man questioned. He stroked his long beard and gazed up at the ceiling. “I’m not entirely sure I know which folks you’re talkin’ about. We get a lot of travelers in here.”

  Montego reached into his coat and pulled out his wallet. Counting off several bills onto the counter, he watched as the man’s memory instantly came to life.

  “Oh, yeah, I remember who you’re talkin’ about. Skinny feller and his sister. Purty little thing even if she did have her hair all cut short.”

  “Just tell me when they left,” Montego insisted.

  “Well, they came down here just after midnight and said they needed to check out immediately. Didn’t say where they were going in the dead of night like that, but we get lots of folks that have to run off quicklike. I’m just grateful they paid their bill.”

  Montego nodded. “Thank you.” He extended his arm to Isabella. “Shall we go, my dear?”

  “Of course,” she replied, watching him carefully.

  Once they were outside, Montego muttered, “They must be suspicious about something or they’d not have felt the need to steal away in the middle of the night. The only problem is, where did they steal away to?”

  “Well, we could check with the station agent. Surely he’d know if they bought a ticket on the morning train.”

  Montego realized his daughter’s words made sense, but his irritation at allowing the Baldwins to slip through his fingers was making him most disagreeable. “I don’t suppose it will matter even if he does remember them. You know the man. He hasn’t much sense for keeping track of anything more than what he’s ordered to do. He may recall the Baldwins, but I doubt he’ll know anything at all about their destination.”

  “It’s worth a try, Father, and the station isn’t that far.”

  “Very well. I suppose we must start somewhere.”

  “What kind of plan do you have once we find them?” Isabella asked. “Are we to simply kill them?”

  “No, I don’t suppose another attack on Jordana Baldwin would be tolerated. Their parents are important people back east. They would no doubt refuse to stop investigating until they saw their children’s murderers behind bars.”

  “What about an accident?” Isabella arched her brow, an evil glint in her dark eyes. “A train accident.”

  Montego smiled at her. “You have a gift, my dear.”

  “I take after you, Papa.”

  “That you do,” Montego said, studying her closely. “But we shall have to work quickly and cautiously. If anyone gets wind of this, it will ruin all our other plans.”

  23

  Finding Rich in Ogden proved to be somewhat difficult, but after searching for nearly half the day, Jordana and Brenton finally located the man in one of the town’s eating houses—actually, as he was leaving.

  “Rich!” she exclaimed. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

  Rich registered his surprise, but before he could say anything, Brenton jumped in. “There’s real trouble afoot. I think we should go someplace off the street. Someplace where we can talk freely.”

  “I have a room,” Rich suggested, recovering quickly from his surprise.

  “That would be good,” Brenton replied. “We need to keep out of sight.”

  Reaching over, Rich pulled a chicken feather out of Jordana’s hair. “New fashion?”

  She grinned. “If you only knew.”

  “Just don’t stand downwind of us,” Brenton said, trying to prove his humor in the matter. “We smell like chickens.”

  Rich looked first at Brenton and then Jordana and finally rolled his eyes heavenward. “If your sister was involved, then I won’t even bother to hear the whole story. With her, you can never tell what’s going to happen next.”

  “Yes, well,” Jordana said with a smile, “this occasion of our getting together will surely not be a disappointment to you, then.”

  “Great,” Rich said with a sigh. “I should have known.”

  They settled in Rich’s room with Jordana explaining in detail what had happened, and Brenton joining in from time to time. Rich listened patiently, his expression growing more grave by the minute.

  “I, too, had figured the Montegos were a problem,” he said. “When we were in Wadsworth I learned that they had just bought up large parcels of land there and in Reno. Montego said it was for development, and he met constantly with the people he thought could populate these regions and bring about settlement and prosperity. He owns land all along the UP as well, but mostly in the newly established Wyoming Territory.”

  “I fail to see how he benefits from sabotaging the railroad,” Jordana replied. “If he wants people to settle on his land—”

  “But his attacks are usually well away from the cities. Now we can see that he’s paying the Indians to do part of the dirty work, if not all of it. After all, the army will go after them and brook no explanation. Can you imagine any soldier worth his salt paying much heed to some painted war chief explaining that a white man paid him to destroy track?”

  “No, Montego has been very smart about this. First he aligned himself with Durant and established a position of contractor for the UP. There are entire stretches of track he and his men have been hired to build. Those lines have continually met with one mishap or another. Of course, this jacks up Montego’s price for the repairs and also encourages him to seek a sort of risk bonus, which Durant has been good enough to give over to him. The land he owns and encourages settlement of is always within the established towns along the way. He buys advertising back east—I only just learned this,” Rich added as he thought through the information. “He promises great benefits to new settlers. He tells them nothing of the corruption of those towns or the lawlessness of the territory. Did you two know that shortly before Congress decided to map out the Wyoming Territory, the Dakota territorial governor revoked Laramie’s charter to be a town? That’s how bad the corruption has spread.”

  “With leaders like Montego, what do you expect?” Jordana mused.

  “But that’s just it,” Rich replied. “He’s really not that much of a leader. He’s well-known and apparently has called to himself quite a following, but he never bothers to get involved in the politics of the town he’s working in. It’s almost like he plans to set things in motion, then take the money and run.”

  “Probably so,” Brenton replied. “It would be more advantageous to make a nice profit from the land and leave than deal with the people’s disappointment once they see what the real story is. I heard some lots in Laramie were going for ten times their fair market value. If Montego is lining his pockets in that manner, then he wouldn’t be so foolish as to stick around and see what repercussions there are to face afterward.”

  “This is all coming so much clearer,” Rich said. “I think now is the time for plans of our own.”

  “Such as?” Jordana questioned, going to where Rich stood.

  “We need to draw them out. We need concrete evidence that the destruction on the railroad has been orchestrated by Montego.”

  “How do we do that?”

  Rich eyed her suspiciously, then shook his head. “We don’t. I must
do this alone.”

  “But I’m the one who was kidnapped,” Jordana protested.

  “Yes, exactly my point. They know who you are now. You are more of a threat now than you were two months ago. If they had you kidnapped then, what do you suppose they would do to you this time, especially if they fear you can identify Montego?”

  “But you can’t do this by yourself,” Jordana replied stubbornly.

  “I have friends,” Rich replied. “There are trustworthy men in my acquaintance. If I need someone else to help me, I’ll solicit one of them. My suggestion to you, Brenton,” he said, turning to the weary-looking young man, “is to get your sister back to Sacramento as quickly as possible. If she’s there among your family and the management of the Central Pacific, she should be safe enough.”

  “I agree,” Brenton replied.

  “Well, I don’t,” Jordana said, stomping her foot. “I don’t like knowing you are out there working alone.”

  Rich smiled and reached out to touch her arm. “Jordana, I thought we agreed that neither of us ever worked alone. We both agree that God is on the side of justice and righteousness, and that is all I am seeking to accomplish. I want justice. I won’t work alone.”

  ——

  After wiring ahead to one of his trusted men to spy out Montego’s whereabouts, Rich disembarked from the afternoon train in Laramie and immediately set off on his course. Sneaking around the depot and along the busy road, he tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible. At just the appointed moment, he saw a man with a large slouch hat headed his way. The man looked for all the world like one of the panhandling con men. His mismatched attire had been thrown together in a haphazard fashion, and the man positively reeked of rum.

  “You certainly look the part,” Rich intoned as the man approached him, asking if he wanted to play a game.