Love Finds You in Last Chance, California

by Miralee Ferrell

  A somber silence settled over the room. The sun dropped below the horizon and darkness increased. The lone lantern hanging on a wooden peg near the door cast its light over the two silent men, each lost in his own reflection.

  A few minutes passed and Justin started to rise then settled back into his chair. “One more thing.”

  “Git it off yer chest, son.”

  Justin let his gaze rove the room for a moment before answering, trying to gather his thoughts. Dim shadows lingered around the barred cell in the back of the shack, and an air of expectancy hovered nearby. “Molly’s sister turned up in town a few days ago. Name’s Christy Grey and she’s working at the saloon.”

  “Saw her. Pretty, nicely dressed redheaded gal?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you say she’s your wife’s sister? Come out for a little family visit?”

  Justin bit back a laugh. “Hardly. I didn’t know she existed until she showed up at the ranch two days ago.”

  “Hmm. Alex see her?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “What’d she want with you? Or did she come to see Alex?”

  Justin shook his head and released a small groan. “Me. Or maybe I should say Toby. She’s trying to take my son. Says I have no right to him.”

  The sheriff’s forehead wrinkled and his head drew back a mite. “No right? You’re his pa.”

  “She’s claiming I never married Molly. That I abandoned Molly and Toby. Says she’s blood kin, and she wants him.”

  “Does she know you’re not Toby’s natural father?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think so. Besides, I don’t care to have Toby find out. Things like that cast a shadow on a child’s life. I’m his pa, and that’s all he needs to know. I just got to prove I married his mother.”

  “Should be simple. You got a marriage certificate or a family Bible that the preacher put the date and your names in?”

  Justin leaned forward. “No. I wired the preacher in Auburn and got a reply from the sheriff. The preacher died and the courthouse where he recorded the marriage burned. I have no idea what happened to Molly’s copy.”

  “Ah, tough luck.” The sheriff wagged his head and tapped his fingers against the surface of his desk. “Alex know all this?”

  “Miss Grey blurted it out in front of her. I haven’t told her about the courthouse or the preacher.”

  “Ah-huh. Well, now.” Sheriff Ramsey seemed at a loss for words but kept his eyes steady on Justin.

  Justin pushed to his feet and extended his hand. The sheriff stood and shook it, then Justin stepped toward the door. “Thanks for your time, Sheriff. I appreciate you keeping an eye out for what might be going on at the ranch—and for the listening ear.”

  The man hitched up his belt and walked around his desk. “Sure thing. I should tell you that if the Grey woman comes to me with a complaint, I’ll have to look into it. Not that I want to, mind you—but I’ve a sworn duty to uphold.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Justin turned the knob and pulled open the door. He hesitated then swung back around. “I’m sure it goes without saying, but…”

  “I’ll keep your story about Molly and the rest to myself. Not anyone else’s business.”

  “Thanks. Much obliged again, Sheriff. Have a good night.”

  “You, too. Guess I’ll be gettin’ on home, or Sarah’s going to send the posse after me.”

  Justin pulled the door shut behind him and headed down the street to his stallion tied to the hitching rail. He’d hoped things would get easier after he arrived here, but life sure had a way of disappointing some men.

  Seemed like God might take a hand in things just this once in his life. ’Course, he’d not been doing much along the lines of prayer or reading a Bible for some time now.

  He stopped alongside his horse and paused then reached into his saddlebag, drew out an object wrapped in oilskin, and balanced it on his hand. Mother’s Bible. He hadn’t thought of it or looked at it since placing it here more than a year ago. Maybe it was time to start reading it again. It might not change anything, but he doubted it would hurt, either.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Alex sat at her father’s desk and stared at the remaining stack of paperwork. Why hadn’t she noticed the hours her father must’ve spent in here? Most of her memories of him revolved around their rides, shooting and hunting expeditions, and starting the young stock under saddle. She’d had no idea how much time the business end of running a ranch could consume.

  As soon as she finished here, she’d take Hunter for a run down the road. She leaned over and stroked the big dog’s ears. “Want to take a walk, boy?”

  His tail began to thump and he lifted eager eyes.

  “Soon. I’m almost done.”

  The contract for the small band of mares due to be delivered in a few days lay on top. Ten mares shipping via the railroad in Auburn to a stable in Sacramento. That meant sending a couple of men off the ranch for at least three days. Justin? She shook her head. As much as she’d like to send him, she couldn’t do that to Toby. Davis and one of the other men would do. The Foresthill sale would be a faster trip—maybe Justin could take that one instead.

  The bookkeeping end of things caused her the most stress. The theft of the geldings a few weeks earlier and the resultant loss of the cavalry contract cut deep. This small sale would barely pay this month’s ranch expenses, with nothing set aside against the bank mortgage.

  The men had searched for the missing horses again, with no results. She’d given up looking, and the weight of the note against the ranch sat even heavier on her shoulders. Something needed to change, and soon. She’d had to dig deep to pay for the new stallion and mares, and it would be more than three years before she’d see any income from them.

  She glanced down at the books again. For some reason, the tally of her herd seemed off. She’d had the men count the mares, foals, and geldings over this past week, and the numbers didn’t correspond with her father’s list. It appeared that at least a dozen head were missing, or else her father’s figures were off. “No way. Papa never made a mistake on a head count in his life.” She muttered the words under her breath.

  Footsteps outside the open door came to a halt, and Martha poked her head around the corner. “Need something, dearie?”

  Alex smiled and shook her head. “I declare, you’ve got better hearing than I do.” She reached her arms in the air and stretched. “The only thing I need is a new back and a few missing horses.”

  Martha’s eyebrows shot up into the soft fringe of bangs feathered across her forehead. “More missing horses? What’s this you’re saying?” She stepped into the doorway and shot a sharp look at Alex.

  “Unless Dad’s numbers are off, we’ve got about a dozen head unaccounted for. A couple of mares that are open this year and the rest geldings.”

  “What in the world?” Martha braced her sturdy hand against the door frame.

  “I don’t know, but I mean to find out.” Alex pushed up from her chair and bent her shoulders toward the floor. “After I get this kink out of my back. How anyone can ride an office chair for more than an hour I’ll never understand. I’d rather sit a bad-tempered horse all day than sit in that thing for half that long.”

  “Your father, God rest his heart, used to say the same thing. He hated sitting in here away from the sunshine and fresh air. What you see in sitting a hard saddle being bounced all over creation, I’ll never understand. A rocking chair with a pillow under your bottom and one behind your back is far nicer.”

  Alex laughed and put her arm around Martha’s plump shoulders. “Martha, Martha, you have no idea what you’re missing. But I must admit I’m grateful you feel more comfortable in your kitchen than in a saddle, or we’d all starve.”

  “That you would, dearie, that you would.” The older woman’s eyes twinkled and she patted Alex’s arm then moved off to her chosen domain. Martha paused in the doorway and turned. “Best tell your uncle Joe
about those horses and maybe Justin, as well. He seems like a smart, honest boy. I’m guessing he could help.”

  Alex rolled her eyes at the not-so-subtle hint. Why was everyone close to her determined to play matchmaker? “He might be smart, but I have no desire to confide my business to the man.”

  Martha swung around and marched back a few paces. “What’s ailin’ you, child? You’ve had a bee in your bonnet for days.”

  Alex avoided the older woman’s eyes and dropped her gaze back to the account book. “Nothing. Just tired, I guess.”

  Martha snorted. “No, ma’am, I don’t believe that. You’re as healthy as a young colt turned out on new spring grass. Something’s worrying you. You’re no good at keeping things from me, missy, so you might as well spit it out.” She tromped back to the desk and lowered her bulk into a chair.

  Alex grinned and shook her head. “I’ve kept lots of secrets from you over the years. I’ll bet you don’t know I used to climb out my window and shinny down the oak tree so I could sneak off and ride my pony in the moonlight, do you?” She grinned at the shocked look on Martha’s face. “Huh. What’d I tell you.”

  Martha crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair. “Have it your way. Keep your secret and go on being miserable all by your lonesome.”

  Alex’s grin faded and she felt herself droop. The last thing she wanted was to keep the worry about Justin stored up inside. Alex knew that Martha was right. “Something happened while you were gone to Alice’s for tea.” With a sigh she launched into a description of the events of the past few days, from her first meeting with Christy Grey to their most recent encounter with Justin at the ranch.

  “So you see, she claims she’s Molly’s sister and wants Toby. Says Justin wasn’t married to Toby’s mama and he abandoned them both while Molly was alive—that he has no right to Toby. She plans on going to the sheriff if she has to.”

  Martha gasped and placed her hand over her heart. “Toby? Over my dead body. Nobody’s going to take that boy off this ranch or away from his papa.” She turned a fierce look on Alex. “Don’t care what the woman says. Justin loves that boy and he’s his pa, pure and simple.”

  She got up and leaned over Alex, giving her a brief hug. “I’d best get back to my work.” Martha paused before leaving the room. “You know, your papa’s Bible might ease your heart.”

  Alex lowered her head. “You’re right. I haven’t been very faithful in my scripture reading since Papa passed away. He’d be disappointed in me.” She looked back up at Martha. “Call me if you need me?”

  “I will, dearie. But for now you try to relax.”

  Alex leaned over and patted her sleeping dog’s head then reached for the Bible lying on the corner of the desk. Why she hadn’t thought of her father’s Bible before now shamed her. Where to start? She’d been partial to Psalms and Proverbs—maybe she’d find what she needed there.

  The Bible opened to a paper folded in half bearing her name in her father’s distinct script. She drew it out and laid the Bible aside then opened the two sheets. His precise handwriting flowed across the parchment. When she spied the date at the top, her eyes widened. Just three days before his death. He’d written her a letter but not given it to her? Why write it when he could speak to her instead?

  She blinked her eyes, forcing back the tears collecting in the corners at the sight of her father’s script. This wasn’t the time to cry.

  Alex,

  I’m unsure of how much to share or whether to give you this letter. I’m not expecting anything to happen, but if it did, you might be put in a hard position. I’ll leave this in my Bible and consider for a few days, knowing the Lord will lead me. But until that time, I’m going to record some things that have happened and what measures I’ve taken to protect you and all we hold dear.

  A couple of weeks ago I found what looks to be a rich ore deposit on the far side of our property, near the boundary between our place and Carter Foster’s. I’ve not shared this with anyone but Joe. He and I were speaking about it in my office. You know how I always keep the window open. I heard movement outside. I checked but found no one there. The next morning I found tracks, but it had rained and they weren’t clear enough to follow.

  I haven’t told Joe the exact location of the deposit, although I plan on telling him and you after the assay results come in. No use in getting everyone stirred up with false hopes if I’m wrong. Since then, things have been happening around the ranch. The place I always visit when I want to think was tampered with. I was standing on the edge when it started to cave. I jumped back in time to avoid a nasty fall. I won’t go on, but there’s been more and it’s got me worried. I plan to talk to Sheriff Ramsey when I take this next batch of ore samples to town.

  Alex stopped at the bottom of the page and stared out the window her father had mentioned. Had someone really been listening outside their home, hoping to obtain details about the gold’s location? She glanced back at the page. Papa had stated that there had been other episodes. Her gaze returned to the open window. Suddenly she bolted from the chair, drawing the window closed with a thump. Papa’s revelation heightened the sense of unease she’d been trying to conquer ever since her horses disappeared. Had someone been sabotaging the ranch and possibly spying on her since Papa’s death? She shivered and sank back into the chair, not liking the direction her thoughts had strayed. She turned her attention back to the letter, slipping the first page behind the second.

  I made a decision to ask for help. I don’t know if I ever mentioned my old friend Josiah Phillips to you. Some years ago I helped him during a rough spell. Josiah needed money to save his place, and I loaned it to him. He passed away without paying it back, and his son, Justin, wrote to say that his father’s debt weighed on him. Fine boy. Said he’d pay it back any way he could. So I told him that if I ever needed help, I’d ask him to come and we’d be square. He didn’t want to agree, but I insisted. I sent a wire to Justin Phillips yesterday. He should arrive in the next couple of weeks.

  The letter continued, but Alex’s vision blurred and the pages fluttered to her lap. Justin Phillips? Why hadn’t Papa talked to her about the gold, his fears, his need of help, or sending the wire? Why did he feel he had to shelter her? Maybe all these years of training had been a sham. Maybe he didn’t really think her capable after all. He chose to bring in a stranger instead of leaning on his own family.

  And what about Justin? He knew her father and hadn’t told her—and worse yet, took the job and never said a word.

  Her eyes quickly scanned the rest of the letter. Only one paragraph left.

  I told Justin to keep quiet about my asking him to come until I hire him and introduce him to you proper. You’ll like him, Alex. He’s honest and fine. I heard he’d been married and lost his wife not long ago. In his younger days, his pa said he ran wild for a bit, like most young bucks will do, but he straightened up and made his pa proud before he died.

  Know that I love you, Alex, and I’m glad you’re my daughter. You’re better than any son the good Lord could’ve seen fit to give me. Hopefully I’ll get to the bottom of what’s happening soon and not need to bother you with this mess.

  Papa.

  Alex tipped her head back and closed her eyes. Papa had asked Justin to keep quiet about the reason for coming—at least until he was hired and introduced. Well, Papa died before Justin got here—so why the pretense now? Why not come right out and tell her?

  She tried to push down the irritation and anger she felt building inside. She didn’t care for the thought that her father had brought in outside help without telling her. Between him, Uncle Joe, and Martha—and now Justin—she felt like a grammar school child being protected from the bullies on the playground. Or rather, she felt that they saw her that way.

  She slipped the letter back into the Bible and closed it. Her desire to read God’s Word had faded. It might not be a wise decision, but right now she felt betrayed by nearly everyone around her. She tried not to lump
God into the circle of blame, but if her father hadn’t had a heart attack, none of this would be happening. Was that so much to ask of God—to keep her only remaining blood relative alive a few more years?

  She bolted up out of the chair, tired of thinking and feeling a twinge of a headache starting. “Come on, Hunter. Time to head outside.” The dog lying beside her desk pushed to his feet and stretched, yawning and shaking his head. She stroked his soft coat and rubbed his ears. “I’m sure glad there’s someone around here I can count on.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Christy shut the back door of the saloon near midnight, thankful to be away from the foul breath and pawing hands. A walk in the fresh night air might clear her head. A decision needed to be made, and soon. Disappointment and worry had troubled her sleep the past few days. After the message she’d sent with Sanders’s flunky a few days earlier, she’d hoped he’d come—or at least send someone to respond to her request. His continued silence wrapped an ominous blanket around her shoulders. Hearing anything would’ve been better than hearing nothing.

  She slipped around the corner of the building and headed toward a small patch of trees to the clearing down over the bank. The soft shafts of moonlight cast fingers of light through the branches of the cedars and pine. No small creatures rustled or called to one another this time of night. She pulled her cloak around her shoulders and shivered. The air was pleasantly warm, but dancing fingers of dread sent a shiver running along her skin.