Arriving at his first destination, he rubbed their legs with liniment and checked carefully for splints that could cause lameness. Both horses were sound. He looked at them now as they ate, heads low, breathing steady, and knew Flood would be proud to hear of their performance.
Pulling his hat low, Luke leaned against his saddle and tried to get comfortable. The rocking motion and the rhythmic clickety-clack of the boxcar lulled his weary mind. Just a few more hours and he’d arrive in Kearney.
Idly Luke fingered the deputy’s badge he had in the pocket of his sheepskin coat. Brandon had insisted he take it: a little extra ammunition was always a good thing. Also in his saddlebag was an official-looking document with Samuel Brown’s name neatly printed on the envelope and secured with a wax seal. The paper sheets inside were blank.
He tried to relax. Still, his gut tied up tight like a wet rope when he considered what the next stop held in store. There was the possibility Faith had truly killed Samuel. If she had, he was sure it was in self-defense, but that was something that would have to be proved. He lay there going over every possible scenario.
An hour passed. His eyelids drooped. He was tired and he should try and get some sleep, he realized. He yawned, swiping his hand across his face, and thought about Faith and wondered what she was doing right now at the ranch.
“Kearney!” the conductor bellowed in a deep voice loud enough for Luke to hear. The whistle blew and the brakes screeched in protest, steel grating against steel. The train car rocked strongly as it slowed, upsetting their balance, and the horses braced themselves.
The train jerked a couple of last times, then slowly rolled to a stop. Luke stood, stretched the sore muscles in his legs and pushed open the long wooden door, welcoming the breeze into the hot timber box. He saddled both horses as they peeked out the door with curiosity, and then mounted the dun.
The gelding only had to be directed once. Lowering his head, he eyed the small distance from the train car to the ground, and hopped out, and the bay Luke held by the reins followed suit. Once outside on a grassy knoll, all three enjoyed a deep breath of cool, clean air.
Kearney was not much to look at. It was small and, from where he stood at the depot, only a handful of businesses looked like they were thriving. The rest were dingy, unkempt and in desperate need of paint. A group of young women sat in the park, covered top to bottom in calico and bonnets to protect them from the late-afternoon sun. One read out loud from a book. A chorus of giggles issued forth as Luke rode by, drawing a scowl from their teacher as she tap, tap, tapped her pointer on the back of the bench.
This was Faith’s town, he thought as he studied the landscape, buildings and people. The place where she’d grown up. Had she liked it here? Had people been good to her? The townsfolk looked at him with open curiosity, taking stock of the newcomer.
Spotting a bathhouse, Luke stabled his horses at the livery and spent time cleaning up and gathering information. The Brown farm, which had been the Duncan place for years, wasn’t more than a mile out of town. Mr. Duncan’s daughter married Samuel Brown, from over Trinity Hill Way, Luke learned from a barkeep with nothing to do but talk, and Duncan himself was killed in an accident shortly afterward. There was someone living out there now, he believed, possibly kin to Mr. Brown, but he didn’t know for sure.
“Are there any other places out that way?” Luke had asked the man.
“Just one a bit east of it.”
That’s where, first thing in the morning, Luke planned to start. First he’d wire the information he’d gathered back to Brandon.
The next day, Luke approached the shabby little farmhouse slowly. An old wooden board tacked crookedly on the gatepost read THOMAS FARM. Three dirty-faced children ran about, chasing a handful of clucking hens. One disgruntled, sharp-eyed rooster stood watching. Each time one of the children turned his back, the rooster would make a run for them, sending the children shrieking with laughter as they dashed to safety.
“Quit pestering them hens or I’ll whup your bottoms, ya hear?” a female voice shouted from the barn. “Get ’em so worked up they can’t lay worth squat for days. I mean it!”
The children hadn’t spotted him yet, as they worked quickly to bury some eggs they’d broken in the game. They’d been so busy they hadn’t heard him ride up. He was sure that the person behind that voice wasn’t one to issue a threat and not follow through.
“Howdy,” he said, startling them. “Is this the Brown residence?” he asked, knowing full well that it wasn’t.
A dark-haired girl, no older than three, ducked behind her older sister. Luke noticed that a shoe was missing and her dress was inches too short, outgrown long ago. The other two children, a boy and girl, who looked relatively the same age, stared at him wide-eyed.
Gathering his courage, the boy spoke up. “No, sir, it ain’t.”
Just then their mother, haggard and weather-beaten of features, came from the barn hauling a bucket of milk. Pushing the hair out of her face she looked Luke up and down.
Her son ran to her side. “He thinks this is the Brown place. Guess he can’t read.”
“Hush now, Harvey. You and Hannah take this milk into the house before it spoils here in the sun. Be careful now not to spill it if you want sweet cream tonight.” The children lumbered away with their burden, working together not to spill a drop.
The mother turned her attention to Luke. “What do you want, mister?”
“I’m looking for Samuel Brown,” he said, pulling his fake document from his saddlebag. “I have something for him.”
Her inquisitive gaze moved from the document back up into Luke’s face. “That’s gonna be a mite hard,” she said, giving him a shy smile.
“Why so?”
“He done up and died some months back. His place is the next farm over.”
Luke faked surprise. “Does he have a wife or some other kin close by?”
“Faith Brown, his wife. But she ain’t around. They say she left the day after he died, without telling a soul.” She shook her head.
Finally, he was getting somewhere. This woman probably knew Faith as well as anyone. “Do you mind if I give my horse a drink?” he asked, gesturing to her watering trough.
“Help yourself.”
Dismounting, he led his horse to the trough and the gelding dipped his muzzle into the water. Tongue between his lips and the bit, the horse sucked noisily, bringing a giggle from the smallest girl, who’d stayed behind with her mother.
Luke looked at the envelope he held. “I suppose I should give this to his wife. You say you don’t know where she is?”
“No.” The woman’s expression darkened. “I wish I did. She was a nice neighbor and friend. I miss her. Things around here can get a bit lonesome with only children and animals to talk to.”
Luke missed Faith, too. Trying his best at nonchalance he asked, “Why’d she run off without telling anyone?”
“Now, mister, that’s hard ta say. I wouldn’t blame her if she had given that nasty man a push out the loft, but I don’t think that’s how it happened. Don’t reckon anyone thinks it is. No one who knew her at any rate.”
Now, why would Faith run off if she wasn’t considered a suspect? The bartender hadn’t hinted at any such thing, and here this woman, her closest neighbor, said she wasn’t a wanted criminal. For some reason Faith believed that she and Colton were better off on the trail, away from her family home where she’d grown up. But why?
“My boss will want to know why I wasn’t able to deliver this. Do you know anything more? How he died? If anyone else worked for them at the time?”
The woman shooed away the child who was hanging on her skirt, and she walked over to the shade of a cottonwood, Luke following. “All I know is he fell from the loft in the barn,” she said. “Broke his neck. It was rumored that a few of Faith Brown’s things were found up in the loft when the sheriff came out to look,” she admitted, “but that don’t mean she pushed him.”
�
��No, you’re right,” Luke agreed. Pulling some peppermints from his pocket, he held them out to the little girl. Her smile beguiling, she came forward and plucked the candies from his palm. “There’s enough for you and the others,” he said. Off she ran into the house, calling excitedly to her siblings.
He looked back to the woman expectantly. “What about anyone else being out there on that day? Perhaps a witness? Any farm hands?” he prompted.
“No true farm hands. But before Mr. Duncan died a year ago, they used to let an old black man live in their barn. He was partly crippled, I think. Anyway, he’d help around the place in exchange for food and a place to lay his head at night. But after Faith married, Samuel Brown pretty much run him off. But Ol’ Toby kept coming back every so often, drop in now and then to check on Faith.”
Excitement coursed through Luke. This man might know why Faith was so frightened, or even the true circumstances of what happened the day Samuel died. He needed to talk to him.
“Any possibility that you might know where he is?”
The woman thought a minute. “His name was Toby Johanassey. About fifty-nine, or maybe a little older. He brought me over the cow, late one night after Faith left. Said nobody over there would milk her.”
Penelope! Luke looked to the barn at the mention of the cow, his mind racing. Penelope Flowers, Faith’s charming aunt with the big brown eyes. She must have felt very desperate indeed to make up such a story. At the time, her lies had seemed so contrived, so unnecessary. But maybe they weren’t. Shame filled him, and he wiped a hand over his face. He was going to make it up to her. If only she’d let him.
“He just wanders around from farm to farm looking for food and odd jobs, but I ain’t seen him for a spell,” the woman continued. “Maybe he’s moved on.”
Luke pushed away his disappointment. He didn’t have much time to find out the facts and get back to the ranch. If Toby were still around in the area, come hell or high water he’d find him.
“Would he go back and stay at the Browns’ now that Samuel is dead?” he asked.
The woman’s eyes got big. “I reckon not! That pa of Samuel’s, he moved in after he put his son in the ground. I don’t think Toby would go back there now. If Samuel Brown was ornery, then his pa”—she paused, thinking—“why…he’s the devil himself.”
Luke looked over the weed-strewn fields with the broken-down fence, past the barn and over to the homestead closest in the distance. A row of apple trees ran along the road, leading to a small house where he assumed Faith had grown up. Had she climbed in those trees and eaten that fruit? A bird dipped and turned across the sky until it was out of sight.
“If I go back, he’ll make me marry Ward.” Faith’s words echoed loudly in his mind. He recalled the night Ward had met them outside the mercantile in Pine Grove, and the following night, after he’d hired him on and she’d been so upset. “Ward is a threat to me, Dawn and Colton. And if you don’t want to believe me, well…then don’t.” She had basically told him all he needed to know—that is, if he’d been listening. He’d been too busy condemning her for the things she wasn’t saying.
The woman in front of him’s words played back in his head. “If Samuel Brown was ornery, why, his pa is the devil himself.” It wasn’t the law that Faith had been running from, but the family she’d married into.
Dread ripped through him like a hot knife. He’d gone off and left her right there in the palm of Ward’s hand. The bastard was likely holding something over her head, threatening her with some kind of danger. If only she’d come to him. He was sure that the charges Ward must be using were false. But, if he didn’t get this straightened out now, once and for all, it would always be haunting her; she’d never be free. She’d promised to stay at the ranch until his return. That was the only thought that gave him peace.
He stood there so long, so deep in thought, the woman cleared her throat to get his attention.
“Sorry,” he said. “I was just thinking about everything you’ve told me.” Turning, he stuck his boot in the stirrup and swung into his saddle.
Looking up, Mrs. Thomas shielded her eyes against the sun so she could see him on his horse. “What’s in the letter?”
“I didn’t write the contents, ma’am,” he replied. “I’m just the messenger, bound to deliver. If Toby happens to stop by, tell him I have a reward for him in exchange for talking with me. He can find me at the hotel.” Luke pulled a small leather pouch from his saddlebag. Withdrawing several dollar coins, he reached down and placed them in her hand. “And this is for your trouble.”
A look of disbelief crossed her face, and she tried to hand the money back.
He wouldn’t take it. “Much obliged for the information.”
“Are ya goin’ over to the Brown place now?” she asked.
It was his turn to nod.
“Just watch your back,” she said, looking in the direction he intended to ride. “That bull ox is not to be trusted.”
Luke tipped his hat and rode out.
Chapter Forty-six
AFTER speaking with Mrs. Thomas, Luke went back to his hotel room and made another sealed document, an envelope with blank paper. This one had “Toby Johanassey” written on the front. Now he sat atop his horse at the split in the twisting little road that led to the Brown place.
The branches of the trees lining the lane were heavy with shiny red apples. A sign stood off to the right of the road, a few feet inside a wooden fence that had seen better days. The name Duncan had been scratched out with coal, and Brown was written in over the top. Pulling his gun from its holster, Luke quickly checked its chambers, knowing full well that it was loaded. He holstered the weapon, pulled his hat low, then nudged his horse forward.
The house sat atop a slight rise, giving its occupants a nice view of their land and the approach of any visitors. The barn was between several massive trees. An outhouse, well, smokehouse and storage shed graced the farmyard, and a large chicken coop was partially hidden around back. Although run-down, the farmstead was appealing in a disorderly way and might yet be a nice place with a little care.
Luke stopped just short of the well, where a cat spooked by his horse darted from behind the stone foundation and careened toward the barn. An eerie silence followed. A slight breeze puffed by, bringing with it the smell of fallow earth baking in the hot sun.
The door creaked open and a man stepped out, a very large man who must have been a head and a half taller than Luke himself. Faith’s father-in-law. His face showed neither greeting nor hostility.
“Howdy,” Luke called, real friendly.
The man nodded. “What can I do you for, stranger?” He moved a few steps closer and placed his ham hock of a hand on the porch rail. His fingernails were so black Luke could see their filth from where he sat his horse. His clothes were dirty and his hair unkempt, the complete opposite of Ward. Luke also noticed how the man’s eyes roved, assessing the quality of his horse and clothes.
“I’m looking for some information, if you can spare the time.”
“I’ll help ya if I can,” the man replied. He hawked and spat off the side of the porch, his spittle landing in a flower bed overgrown with weeds. One that Faith had most likely planted. “Tie your horse up and come on in.”
Luke corralled his temper. “Thanks, but I’m in a hurry.” He shifted in his saddle, looking around. No telling whether someone was in the barn.
“I’m listening,” Brown said.
Luke drew the fake envelope from his saddlebag. Wiping the moisture from his brow with the back of his arm, he again took stock of his surroundings. “I’m looking for a man. Older gentleman with a lame foot. Heard he’s been working out here for you, off and on. Toby Johanassey.”
Mr. Brown’s face changed subtly, a tiny spark of suspicion crossing his eyes. “Why you want him?” Luke noted that the man’s eyes never once strayed to the letter.
A twig snapped behind him, and instantly Luke swiveled in the saddle, gun drawn.
When he turned back, Mr. Brown slowly smiled.
“A mite touchy?”
Slowly releasing the hammer with his thumb, Luke slid the gun back into its holster. He ignored the man’s question.
“There’s a reward if I can find him. It’s yours if you’ll tell me where he is.”
“How much?”
This was a cagey fellow. He wouldn’t endanger himself unless the bait was good and tempting. But Luke wanted to get this resolved and get back to his family ranch. He was worried about Faith. Something inside was telling him to hurry.
“Fifty now, and another hundred after I deliver.” It was more than most farmers made in a couple of good years. The offer was sure to get the man’s attention.
Mr. Brown laughed, a harsh sound that made Luke tense. “That’s a hell of a lot of money, son. What did the bastard do to be wanted in such a bad way?”
“Don’t rightly know,” Luke replied, putting the document out of sight in his saddlebag. “I’m just hired to deliver this document and be on my way. It’s the party on the other end with all the money. Have you seen the man I’m looking for?”
“Could be. Let’s see the money.”
Without taking his eyes from Mr. Brown, who’d walked to the well and was pulling up the water bucket, Luke reached into his saddlebag and felt around. His fingers touched on the small satchel he’d brought with over fifty dollars. Settling back in his saddle, he held it up for inspection.
Mr. Brown held out his huge hand. “Let’s see the other hundred.”
Did this man think he was a fool? “I need information, solid information, before I hand this over. The other hundred is in town.”
Mr. Brown’s eyes narrowed. So did Luke’s. All pleasantness was gone.
“How ’bout if I fetch him for you? But it’ll take a while. You ride back to town, get the money and come back tomorrow. Then we’ll finish the business.”
Montana Dawn Page 26