THE Prairie DREAMS Trilogy

by Susan Page Davis

  “Easy to do out here.” Whitey spat tobacco juice off to one side. “If David went down to Scottsburg yestiddy, he might be heading back up to the claim today. Too bad to be so close and not have a look. You might miss him again.”

  Dan nodded. “We should go up there. What do you say, Anne?”

  Determined to eliminate the risk, Anne agreed. It took them less than a half hour to get to the claim. Anne stood beside the stream and gazed at the marks left by David’s spade as he dug out dirt to sift for gold. His fire pit held cold ashes, and the flattened rectangle nearby showed them where his tent had stood. She could even see where his horse had cropped the grass.

  “Told ya he warn’t here,” Sam Hastings said.

  “Shut up.” Whitey glared at him.

  Sam shrugged. “I’m just sayin’.”

  “Well, don’t say no more.” Whitey looked at Anne. “What you want to do now, missy?”

  She looked helplessly to Daniel. “Do you think it will do us any good to go back and ask around town for him?”

  “I don’t know what else we can do,” Dan said.

  “Maybe we should leave some sort of message here for him.” The thought that she might miss him again depressed Anne horribly, and she was resolved not to lose a chance to make contact.

  Dan rummaged in his saddlebags, but no one had any paper.

  “Maybe we could write a message on this scrap of leather,” he said.

  Anne used a charred stick to write a few words on the leather. “Uncle David, looking for you. Anne Stone.” She wrote the date and rolled up the improvised note. Dan tied it with a rawhide thong and tucked it firmly between two rocks on the fire ring, sticking out so that anyone building a fire there couldn’t help but see it.

  “There. If some skunk doesn’t decide to chew on it, it should stay there.” He stood and smiled down at Anne. “Ready to go back to town?”

  “Yes.” She hugged the black cape about her and took one last look over the valley. “I’m glad I saw this place, anyway.” She turned to Bailey and sent up a silent prayer of thanks for the safe return of the horses.

  “Mind if I ride along?” Whitey asked. “There’s things I could use from the store.”

  “Wait a second,” Hastings said. “Are you going to make me walk all the way to Scottsburg?”

  “Why not?” Dan asked.

  “We should get there before dark if you don’t dawdle.” Whitey grinned at Anne and put his foot in the blue roan’s stirrup.

  What was it about the river that Charlotte found so fascinating? David ambled along with her, not in a hurry. Did she only want to get him out of the hotel, away from onlookers? Personally, he’d enjoyed their evening with the Packers last night. He’d thought Charlotte was having a good time, too, but she’d avoided committing to another session of cards tonight.

  He didn’t object to stargazing with a pretty woman. And his sporadic doubts about Charlotte were dim just now. She’d come down to dinner tonight in a new dress—plainer than the elegant one she’d worn on previous evenings, but perfectly suitable for the frontier hotel. She’d told him she’d found it in the mercantile. She seemed like a nice woman, and she was definitely intelligent. Perhaps he could learn to overlook her foibles. If she could put up with him, too, they might make a go of it. The fact that her cousin had yet to appear in town niggled at him, but that wasn’t Charlotte’s fault.

  The road to the docks was the most traveled in Scottsburg, and the freighters kept it in good repair. This time of night, the riverfront was quiet except for a couple of saloons that fronted on the water. Shouts and raucous music wafted on the cool breeze. A man leaned against a piling on one of the smaller docks, smoking a cigarette. David had the feeling he’d seen the fellow before.

  He led Charlotte away from that end of the road, heading instead for the steamer dock.

  “I do love the night sky,” she said, looking dreamily up at the velvety canopy.

  “What do you like best about it?” David asked.

  “It lets me think of things I never think about in daylight. Things I scarcely believe are possible at other times. But under the stars, I can think about anything…and forget things, too.”

  “What sort of things?”

  Charlotte lifted her shoulders and shook her head slightly. “You know. All the sad things. Like being alone now and having to plan the future.”

  “You’re going to live with your cousin and his wife, aren’t you?”

  “That’s just a stopgap. Oh, they’re nice enough, but I don’t want to stay with them forever. You’ll pardon me, won’t you, if I say they’re a bit provincial?”

  “I’d pardon far worse things than that.”

  Her laugh rippled out over the water. “David, you make me feel so clever.”

  He smiled and paused when they came to the dock. “Would you like to walk out on the pier again?”

  “I should like it above all else.” She looked up at him coyly. “Well, not all else, but above most things.”

  The minx. She was the most outrageous flirt he’d known outside a saloon. And this talk of her lonely state and unsettled future—was that meant to draw on his chivalry and lure him in? He still liked her, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to be caught, even though he longed for permanence.

  “I’m sure you’ll find a place you enjoy. And your cousin’s household may surprise you. They may have connections you find very amicable.”

  “None so amicable as you, I’m sure.” She squeezed his arm a little as they stepped onto the dock. “Oh David, I confess I shall miss you when I’ve left here.”

  Her burgundy lips assumed a pout that he found at the same time attractive and annoying. He’d never minded if a woman teased him a little, but tonight Charlotte seemed to go about it with almost grim purpose.

  “Where did you say your cousin lives?” he asked as they strolled out onto the dock, the sound of their footsteps lost in the swirl of the river.

  “Did I not tell you? It’s in Salem. He assured me in his letter that he would meet me here, but now I wonder if I shouldn’t have taken another ship and sailed farther north.” She waved a hand in dismissal. “No matter. I shall stay here until he arrives now that we’ve set the place. And I’m fortunate to have such sympathetic company while I sit in this rather irksome town.”

  “You’ve made my stay more pleasant, as well.”

  “Have I, David? That gives me great satisfaction.” She said the words almost seductively, peering up at him with a smile.

  He felt suddenly uncomfortable. Charlotte’s veneer had worn a little thin. He’d decided she was straightforward to the point of bluntness. Now he didn’t think so. She had plans that she hadn’t stated, and he had serious thoughts about how much more time he wanted to spend with her. He shouldn’t have walked out with her tonight—not that there was anything sinister in it, but she obviously hoped their relationship would not end soon. He turned toward shore.

  “It’s a bit chilly out here, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, let’s not go back yet. I should be ever so warm if you’d just lend me your arm, David.”

  He heard her words subconsciously, but his mind had homed in on a figure on shore. A man walked up the road toward the end of the dock they were on. Was it the same fellow who’d been smoking down below? Perhaps they’d better wait until he passed before heading in.

  “David, what is it? You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing.” He glanced down at her and back toward the shadowy form on shore. The man had paused where the dock met land. He held something up. David’s heart stopped for a moment as he realized the man held a pistol, then it went on beating at breakneck pace.

  “Charlotte, my dear, I’m afraid we’re about to be robbed.”

  “What? You can’t mean it.” She looked toward shore. “Oh no, David—”

  A spark flickered near the man’s hand, and something whizzed past David’s ear, then a loud pow reached him
.

  “Get down!” He threw an arm about Charlotte and took a step back. They were trapped at the extreme end of the dock. David shoved her down onto the planking.

  As he bent to shield her, something whacked into his arm and he heard another pow. Next thing he knew, he was falling off the edge of the dock, flailing as he plummeted into the icy water of the Umpqua.

  CHAPTER 16

  Millie screamed and stared at the man on the shore. She whirled and grabbed the post at the end of the dock and peered down into the swirling water.

  “David! David!” Nothing answered her but the rush of the river. A desolation and fear she had never known swept over her, quickly replaced by fury. Its heat rose from deep in her belly and mounted to her neck and face. She clenched her fists and ran along the dock.

  Peterson met her about halfway. Millie charged into him and pummeled him with her fists.

  “What were you thinking? Why? Why did you do that?”

  Peterson caught her wrists and held them firmly. “Easy now. Did you see him in the water? Where is he?”

  “I don’t know. You monster! Why did you shoot him?”

  Peterson laughed. “What did you suppose I wanted from him?”

  “I thought you wanted to talk to him. Do you mean to tell me that you had me bring him out here so you could kill him?”

  “Could you please lower your voice?”

  “No. I’ll tell everyone who will listen.”

  “No you won’t.”

  Millie stared into his dark eyes. “You promised he wouldn’t think ill of me after you…” She caught her breath and ripped her hands free so she could hit him again. “I hate you. I hate you!”

  “Talk is cheap, Charlotte.”

  He caught her hands again and squeezed them so hard it hurt. Millie stood still and stared up at him.

  “Let me go,” she said between clenched teeth.

  “Why should I? You’re in this with me, my dear. It’s your choice. You can help me…or not.”

  She took a step back, but Peterson held tight to her hands. Tears bathed her face, and it annoyed her that her hands weren’t free to wipe them away.

  “Just tell me why,” she managed.

  “If there was any other way, I assure you, I’d have found it. But Stone is only valuable to me if he’s dead. It has to be this way. And we need the body.”

  Millie gasped. “What on earth do you mean?”

  “The death certificate, woman! Come on. Help me find him and drag him out of the water. Then you can call the authorities and tell them whatever you like.” He walked quickly along the edge of the dock, staring down into the water on the downstream side.

  “I’ll tell them, all right. I’ll tell them you shot that man in cold blood.”

  “No, you tell them anything but that. Because if they come after me, I’ll tell them how you took money to lure Stone out here. Do you understand?”

  All the strength drained out of Millie, and she almost fell to her knees. In a flash she did understand. Her lungs squeezed, and a weight crushed her heart.

  “Yes.”

  He nodded. “Then get ahold of yourself and help me. We can’t let his body float off down the river.”

  They both walked to the extreme end of the dock and gazed downward.

  “The water’s not running that fast, is it?” Millie asked after an awful moment of silence.

  Peterson peered out away from the dock and let his gaze track downstream. “I can’t lose the body.”

  She said nothing but waited for him to speak again. He scanned the water continually. Millie began to think about trying to elude him. Could she outrun him to the end of the wharf? Doubtful. And if he caught her trying to escape, what would he do? He’d already killed a perfectly nice man and seemed to have no compunction about it. No one seemed to have heard the shot but her. At least, no one had come to investigate. He could kill her as easily.

  And what would she tell the constable if she did get away from him? That she’d seen a man shoot another man, but there was no body and no evidence of the crime? If she named Peterson, he would deny everything and cast aspersions on her…or slip out of town before Millie finished telling her tale.

  “Show me the exact spot he went in,” Peterson said.

  “Right here.” She moved to the side of the wharf but turned half toward him, suddenly suspicious. What if he pushed her in? His only witness. But he seemed completely focused on finding David.

  “I’ve got to get a boat.” He stroked his mustache. “Can’t have him floating all the way to the coast.”

  “I doubt you’ll find him,” Millie said. “The current probably pulled him under. He may never be found.”

  “I have to find him. I suppose the body could be caught under the dock.”

  She swallowed hard. “You can’t just let him…disappear? He’s been off at his mining claim. They might think he went back there. We could pack up his luggage and—”

  “Stop babbling! I told you, I need a death certificate or all is lost.” Peterson dashed along the dock, his shoes thudding on the planking.

  Millie walked slowly toward shore. Peterson seemed to have forgotten her. He raced along the shore road toward the saloons. He’d said he needed a boat. No doubt he planned to poke about underneath the dock, in the eerie darkness. Well, he could do that alone. She turned in the opposite direction, though the road led past a looming warehouse and some shabby houses. She would take the long way around to the hotel.

  David lay in the water on his stomach, hugging a piling about halfway along the length of the dock. The frigid water made his entire body hurt, but his arm was the worst. He touched it once and gritted his teeth. Clean through the muscle, he hoped. He concentrated on keeping his hold.

  Above him, far away, he could hear their voices. First Charlotte’s screams, then their feet thudding on the decking above him as he tried to maneuver his way beneath the dock and toward the riverbank. He felt his strength ebbing. As he shoved off from one piling and caught the next, it was hard not to be swept from under the dock and downstream. His head spun, and he clung to the piling. He must be losing blood, not to mention body heat.

  He’d splashed into the water off the end of the dock, and somehow his momentum or the current had pulled him beneath it. He’d panicked at first, thinking Charlotte was alone and unprotected up there with a murderer. Then he’d heard her questions. “Why did you do it? Did you have me bring him out here so you could kill him?”

  So. She was in some scheme and knew the gunman. But why? One thing he knew for certain—he wouldn’t come out of hiding until they were gone.

  As they walked along the dock and apparently searched the water for him, he grew weaker. Would they come down here and get into the water to search beneath the dock? He shifted his good arm lower, so that it was completely beneath the surface, just in case someone looking over the edge could glimpse the piling.

  He heard the man’s voice. It must carry some way—was there anyone else about to hear this thug?

  “I’ve got to get a boat.” And then, “I need a death certificate or all is lost.” The heavier footsteps thudded toward shore.

  It didn’t make sense to David. He closed his eyes and tried not to lose his grip on the slimy post. Why would anyone need a death certificate? He opened his eyes. To prove he was dead, of course. But why? For whom? How could he be of value dead? There was his property, of course. But would someone kill him for an undeveloped farm and a not-too-promising mining claim? Did this man know something he didn’t?

  The voice sounded cultured but cold. Not like a backwoodsman or a hardened criminal. Who was he? David racked his brain for anyone who might hate him or even somebody who’d hold a grudge against him, but nothing came to him.

  The lighter footsteps moved above him. Charlotte was still there. Should he let her know he was still alive? What would she do? She’d apparently betrayed him willingly, though perhaps in ignorance of the assassin’s purpose. But D
avid didn’t have enough confidence in her to trust her again. He gritted his teeth and prayed in silence.

  “I’ve got a place I can lock him up,” the constable said. “Won’t be the first horse thief we’ve kept in Fisher’s icehouse until the judge said we could string him up.”

  Sam Hastings’s face blanched.

  “I’m not sure we want to go that far,” Anne said quickly.

  “Well, ma’am, did he or didn’t he steal your horses?”

  “He did,” Dan said. Anne was obviously having second thoughts about turning the slow-witted thief over for justice. “Is it possible he could spend some time in jail for this, or even perform some labor in compensation?”

  “You want him to work for you instead of hangin’?” The constable scratched his chin through his beard. “I dunno. Have to wait and see what the judge says, I reckon.”

  “We would plead for…for clemency. Wouldn’t we, Daniel?” Anne turned her eloquent brown eyes on him, and Dan couldn’t refuse her.

  “Surely. We don’t want this man executed.”

  “Thought you said he put you in mortal danger. Look, either you press charges, or you don’t.”

  Anne plucked at Dan’s sleeve and pulled him toward the door. “Excuse us, Constable. We need a moment to confer.”

  Dan followed her outside, where Whitey waited with the horses.

  “We can’t let them hang him, Daniel,” she whispered.

  “Well, Anne, it seems to be the standard penalty for his crime.”

  “What’s that?” Whitey asked.

  “They’ll hang Mr. Hastings if we file a complaint against him for taking the horses.”

  Whitey spat tobacco juice between the roan’s front feet. “Yup. That sounds about right.”

  “But…” Anne turned to Dan, her face contorted in dismay. “That makes us directly responsible for his death. We can’t do that.”

  Dan hesitated. “What do you suggest?”

  “Let’s ask Constable Owens when the judge will make a ruling.”

  They went back inside and put the question to the constable.

  “Well, now, I don’t expect he’ll be here for another fortnight. He only comes once a month.”