The sheriff frowned and pulled at his mustache. “True, Alex is a mite strong-willed. Strange Ben didn’t mention anything to me. You sure of your facts?”
“Yes. I kept his telegram.” Justin shook his head, hoping to clear it of the shock that burrowed its way into his mind. “I can’t believe Ben’s dead.”
Carl Ramsey sobered. “You say Ben told you the ranch was in trouble?”
Justin nodded and waited. The serious look on the older man’s face indicated that his mind appeared to be mulling over a problem.
“He say what kind of trouble?”
“No, sir. I figured he’d tell me more when I arrived. He just asked that I get here quick.”
The sheriff stretched out a leathery hand and smiled. “Care to let me read that telegram? If people ask questions about what you’re doing here, I can answer honest as to your intentions.”
“Guess it couldn’t hurt.” Justin pulled the creased and worn missive from his pocket and handed it over, watching the inscrutable expression on the sheriff’s face. “Sheriff, I know it’s an awfully bold thing to be asking when you hardly know me, but do you think his death might be more than it appears?”
Ramsey shrugged and shook his head. “I’d not go that far, leastwise not yet. There wasn’t a mark on Ben’s body; saw him myself. ’Sides, Doc Stevens is good as it gets ’round these parts. If he thought it was Ben’s heart, I’m liable to take his word for it.” The sheriff’s gaze appraised Justin. “What’re your plans now?”
“I’m not sure. I came expecting to meet Travers, but with him gone, I can’t just go out to the ranch.”
“You got a point there.” The sheriff leaned back in his swivel chair and stared at the ceiling. “Let me think on this.”
Justin got to his feet and slapped his hat on his head. “Toby’s apt to be awake, and I promised Miss Alice not to be long.”
The sheriff’s chair came forward. “I’ll be in touch. Think I’ll talk to the reverend, if you don’t mind. He and Ben were good friends.”
“As long as he keeps it to himself. No way of knowing what direction the trouble came from.”
Ramsey stood and stepped around his desk. “No worries there. The reverend knows how to keep his mouth shut.” He stretched out a work-hardened hand. “Dealing with folks’ lives day in and day out in a small town teaches you that much.”
Justin shook the sheriff’s hand and then headed toward the door. “Let’s hope he can shed some light on it.”
Chapter Eight
Alex stepped into Cramer’s roomy dry goods store situated on the corner across from the bank and glanced around for her friend. The front counter was empty, but Elizabeth’s voice drifted up from the end of an aisle. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
“It’s just me, Elizabeth. Take your time.” Alex walked to a table covered with bolts of fabric and fingered a blue-sprigged muslin. While she preferred men’s pants on the range and for horseback, she wasn’t completely averse to dressing up when necessary. She didn’t like to think of herself as vain, but the glints of admiration she got when visiting Auburn went a long way toward dulling the pain caused by the catty tongues of the women in Last Chance.
Elizabeth emerged from the household goods aisle with Sarah Ramsey on her heels. The sweet-faced wife of their sheriff was a favorite to all, and one of the few women who always tried to draw Alex into the feminine circle in town.
“Alexia, how wonderful to see you.” Sarah’s beaming smile crinkled clear up to her eyes. “What brings you to town this fine day?”
“I’m hoping to talk Elizabeth into sharing a meal with me at the hotel.” Alex raised her eyebrows at her friend and smiled.
“I’d love to. I’ll join you for dinner when I finish Sarah’s order. Want to wait for me, or should I join you there?”
“I’ll wait. I’m not in a hurry.”
Sarah Ramsey placed her handful of items on the counter and reached for her small reticule. “I won’t keep you girls. How much do I owe you, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth rang up the spool of thread, two pounds of sugar, and four yards of calico. “That’ll be one dollar.” The ding of the cash register and clink of the silver dollar dropping into the tray filled the quiet store. “Have a good day, and thank you for coming.” Elizabeth walked Sarah to the door.
After the older woman stepped outside, Elizabeth flipped the sign on the door. She removed her apron and shook it then walked back to the tall wood counter and hung it on a hook. “I’m so glad you stopped, Alex. I’ve been thinking about you all morning.”
Alex linked arms with her tall, willowy friend and smiled. “I’ve so much to tell you, but first things first—I’m starved.”
Elizabeth drew the shade, pulled open the door, and locked it behind them. The street was quiet this time of day, as the miners only came to town on occasional trips and typically headed for the dining room next to the hotel or the saloon. New Caledonia mine lay a short distance from Last Chance, and Alex noticed a scattering of miners seated in the little dining room when she and Elizabeth walked through the door.
She nodded at a big bearded man seated across from a tall, angular woman at a small table just inside the room. “Mr. and Mrs. Gurney. How are you today?”
Clive Gurney looked up from his meal, and his heavily laden spoon paused midway. “Fair to middlin’, Miss Travers. Mabel, you remember Miss Travers?” He turned to his dour-faced wife and nudged her when she didn’t reply. “Mabel?”
“Ah yes, Alexia Travers.” The woman’s lips curved into a grin, but her unsmiling eyes appraised Alex from head to foot. “Wearin’ blue ’stead of black, I see! Done grieving your pa already?” She glared at her husband and chortled. “’Least she’s not wearin’ men’s pants today!”
The skin above Clive’s beard glowed red and his eyes blazed. “Mabel! You apologize to Miss Travers.”
Alex held out her hand and shook her head. “Please. It’s all right. I’m sorry if I bothered you. Have a good evening.”
Elizabeth slipped her hand into Alex’s and drew her across the room to a quiet corner away from the gaping crowd. “I’m sorry, hon. I don’t know what’s wrong with some of these women.”
Alex slid into her chair and dropped her head into her hand. “Mrs. Gurney thought I was flirting with her husband.” She lifted troubled eyes to her friend. “I’ve always known they thought I was standoffish because I don’t attend the women’s socials and I wear pants when I ride. But I had no idea they thought I had designs on their men!”
Elizabeth put her hand over her mouth and stifled what sounded like a choking sob. “Oh, my!” she gasped, trying to smother her laughter.
“What can possibly be funny?”
Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, lifted the napkin from the table, and covered her twitching mouth. “I had this rather sudden image of you and Clive Gurney running away together. Bushy, bearded, balding Clive Gurney, who’s at least twice your age and three times your weight. Tell me that’s not amusing!”
Alex stared at Elizabeth, but then the absurdity of the picture struck her and she began to giggle. It was the first time since her father died that she’d been able to laugh, and in spite of the strange circumstances that induced the laughter, she had to admit that it felt good.
A rumpled young waitress hurried to their table, wiping her hands on her apron. “What can I get for you gals? Ma made some tasty beef stew and biscuits, and she’s got a big pot of beans, along with pie and coffee.”
Alex leaned her elbows on the table and looked up. “Hmm, that sounds good, Lacey. And maybe a cup of coffee and some pie later.”
Elizabeth nodded and smiled. “I’ll have the same. Have you been busy today?”
“Yeah. Seems like when one person decides to come eat, a whole passel troops in. Dinner kept me runnin’, but Ma’s glad for the extra business.” She sighed and turned to go. “I’m glad things’ve slowed now, but I’d best hustle ’fore anyone else drops by. I’ll get your
meal right out.”
Elizabeth watched the young girl hurry back toward the kitchen on the far side of the crowded room. “Lacey’s a nice girl. Too bad her mama’s too cheap to get more help. It seems like she lives her entire life here.”
“Miss Travers!” Rob Bartlett rushed into the room, waving a slip of paper above his head. “There you are,” he wheezed as he trotted over to her table. “It came—your answer came. The horses—they’re comin’, Miss Travers. Looks like they’ll be here in just a few days!”
Alex groaned then pasted on a smile and thanked the excited man. She waited until he headed back across the dining room before turning to Elizabeth. “Just what I need. More debt and horses I know nothing about. Why is God letting this happen? Wasn’t it enough that Papa died? Can’t He let me have a few weeks of peace?”
Elizabeth reached across the gingham cloth and patted Alex’s hand. “Don’t blame God. You know He loves you, no matter what’s happened. You need to trust Him, Alexia.”
“But it seems so unfair. It wouldn’t be so bad if Papa hadn’t taken out the mortgage on the ranch. But to have the gold disappear and these horses coming and my hired hands questioning whether I’m capable of running the ranch…” She drew a long, deep breath and shook her head. “I don’t understand where God’s supposed to be in all of this.”
“Right beside you, where He’s always been. Does the Bible promise that life will always be fair after we give our lives to Him?” Elizabeth smiled and tipped her head to the side. “You know it doesn’t. But He promises to give you the strength and grace to get through the tough times, if you’ll trust Him.”
Alex sighed. “I know. You’re always right, Elizabeth. I’m sorry to burden you with my complaints.”
Elizabeth’s warm brown eyes softened. “You can complain to me anytime you want to, as long as that independent streak of yours doesn’t take over and make you decide to do something foolish.”
Alex bit her lip and tried to look serious. “Who, me? Independent? Why, honey, I’m just as sweet-natured and compliant as they come.”
Elizabeth covered her mouth and giggled. “Yes, and I’m going into seclusion at a monastery soon.” She dropped her voice. “But truly, Alex—God really will take care of things if you’ll just quit fretting.” She propped her arms on the table and leaned forward. “Now tell me all about this handsome stranger who stopped at the church the other day. The whole town’s been talking about it.”
Alex shrugged. “Good looking or not, I don’t think he intends to stick around. He seemed like more of a drifter to me.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and a sly smile crept around her lips. “Ha! So you did notice his looks.”
Alex felt the heat rise up her neck and stain her cheeks. “Well, I’m not blind.”
The two girls laughed and turned at the sound of footsteps stopping nearby. Lacey stood next to their table, coffeepot in hand and a dreamy look on her face. “I’m not blind, either. He stopped in for coffee yesterday evening, and he sure does clean up right fine.” She let out a heartfelt sigh and refilled their cups then floated away to the next table.
Alex looked at Elizabeth and put her hand over her mouth. “Lacey’s got it bad. She might be the answer to that man’s prayer. She’d make a great mama to his little boy and get out from under her mother’s thumb all at the same time.”
Elizabeth shook her head and leaned back in her chair. “From what I’ve seen, I don’t think so. He looks like a man who knows what he wants, and I doubt it’s a dreamy girl hoping to escape her mama.”
Alex placed her napkin on the table and pushed back her chair. “I guess it’s a good thing God didn’t put us in charge of the world and matchmaking, huh?” She fingered the gold locket hanging on a slender chain around her throat.
“A very good thing.” Elizabeth leaned across the table and touched the locket. “Your mother gave you that, didn’t she?”
“Yes, and my grandmother gave it to her. When Mama knew she might not live through the birth of my little brother, she slipped it off and put it around my neck. I’ve not removed it since.”
“One of these days you’ll need to put a special photograph in there.” Elizabeth rose and stepped around to slip a hand through Alex’s arm. “Come on. Let’s take a walk. You’ve never seen the gent in question ‘all cleaned up,’ as Lacey says. Maybe we’ll bump into him.”
Alex felt grateful that Elizabeth’s head was turned. The reminder of her encounter with the handsome stranger on the sidewalk not long ago sent another flood of color to her cheeks. “I’ll walk with you for a few minutes, but not because I’m interested in seeing the drifter again—whether he’s ‘cleaned up’ or not.”
Elizabeth didn’t reply, but a smug little smile clung to her lips as she tugged her friend out of the room.
Chapter Nine
Alex sat on Banner and leaned her hands against the pommel of her saddle. The knoll where she’d stopped stood several hundred feet above the high plateau and gave her an excellent view of the ranch.
She’d ridden to the far side of the property not long after sunrise, needing time alone. Over the years, she’d discovered that her mind worked best when on horseback, so she’d saddled Banner, whistled to Hunter, and headed for her favorite lookout.
Distant bay, sorrel, and black horses dotted the plateau floor, and occasional puffs of dust rose under the hooves of young foals racing across patches where the grass hadn’t yet returned. The ridges of the Sierra Nevada range loomed over it all, casting impressive shadows over the high mountain plateau. The sound of the wind whispering among the sugar pines soothed Alex’s agitation.
She swung from the saddle, slipped her horse’s reins around a low-hanging branch, and whistled sharply. Before long she heard a crashing in the dense mesquite as Hunter bolted through and dashed to her side, his big pink tongue lolling and his sides heaving. “What’ve you been hunting, you big goof?” She stroked his black ears and looked into his soulful eyes. “Where’s your stick? Go find it.”
Hunter streaked away and began a frantic hunt under the nearby trees. A few minutes later he returned triumphant, a large stick clamped in his jaws.
Alex held out her hand, and the dog obediently placed it on her palm. He stepped aside, his gaze never leaving the stick. She leaned back and heaved her entire body into the throw. Hunter’s long strides covered the distance almost before the stick landed near the stream bank.
Alex continued the game for a few minutes then sank onto the grass and patted the ground beside her. “Down, Hunter. That’s enough—no more.”
The quiet of the spot reached out and embraced her, wrapping tendrils of peace around the trouble still surging in her mind. While her father’s decision to mortgage the ranch and keep it a secret baffled her, another part of her heart admitted he’d known her better than anyone. He’d understood her dread of change and how hard she’d fought against it all her life. She’d been her father’s daughter for so many years, and an independent woman besides. He must have realized she’d want to succeed on her own.
He’d had high hopes she’d meet a man and marry someday, and he used to tease her about becoming an old maid. In her heart she admitted to occasional loneliness, but she didn’t feel the need for a husband. She could break a young horse, deliver a foal, shoot as well as Uncle Joe or Papa, mend fences, ride herd at night, and track with the best of the hands. About the only thing she couldn’t do was cook, and she cheerfully left that to Martha. Nobody cooked like Martha anyway, so she saw no sense in trying.
A wet nose and soft whine brought her back to the present, and she stroked Hunter’s head. “I’ll keep this ranch and make it succeed on my own. I don’t want to share it with anyone but you, Martha, and Uncle Joe.”
Hunter crept a little closer, laid his head on her knee, and gazed into her face, his ears cocked forward. “Do me a favor? Chase off any men that come courting and I’ll throw a stick for you anytime—deal?”
He tipped h
is head to the side and his entire body wriggled.
“Good boy. We’ll keep life the way it is now.”
Alex pushed to her feet and the big dog jumped up, watching her every move. “Guess we’d better go check on the foals. Nothing will get done while we sit here moping.” She untied the buckskin’s reins and swung up into the saddle. The view from this hill never failed to satisfy her continual longing for freedom.
Why couldn’t she have been born a man? Running the ranch alone wouldn’t be an issue. Why in the world couldn’t women be treated the same as men? She shook her head, knowing that wouldn’t happen in her lifetime. At least she still wore the pants on her ranch. She grinned and looked at her legs. Quite literally—and if she had her way, that’s how it would remain.
Two hours later Alex rode onto the ranch and swung down in front of the barn. They’d covered some distance and she’d given the gelding his head, allowing a fast gallop across the valley floor. Banner loved the freedom, and the run had somewhat loosened the hard knot lodged in her chest.
“Alexia? You have visitors, dear.” Martha’s strong voice floated across the open area between the house and the barn. “Charlie and Walter both arrived a few minutes ago and are inside washing up. I told them I’d bring tea and cookies to the front porch. You can join them there when you’re finished.”
Alex groaned and rolled her eyes, not excited about the prospect of visiting with either of the young men. She’d known them since childhood, but in the past few years they’d tried to transform themselves from playmates into suitors. She’d humored them in the past, always keeping them at arm’s length.
She unsaddled and rubbed Banner down in record time then left him munching grain in his stall. One of the ranch hands could’ve cared for her horse, but the few extra minutes gave her time to adjust her attitude from annoyance to graciousness before she met the men waiting on the porch.
Love Finds You in Last Chance, California Page 7