Whispers on the Wind

by Brenda Jernigan

  “I should hope not,” Carter said, “especially since you can’t remember anything.”

  Mary swallowed hard. She was going to have to think before she spoke if she was to pull off her deception. And that wasn’t something she usually did. However, it would have been nice if she really couldn’t remember. She wanted to wipe the sight of the murder out of her mind. Swallowing quickly, she held her breath to prevent the tears that were threatening to pool in her eyes.

  U.S. Marshals were not dumb. They were savvy hunters. They were also the best lawmen around, and she had the feeling that the man in front of her was one of the best, but right now she just couldn’t think anymore. It made her head hurt too bad. So she closed her eyes and rested her head against Carter’s strong back and let out a small sigh.

  Funny, here she sat in the middle of a very dagerous situation with men who could arrest her and put her in jail, yet at the moment she felt very safe.

  Trouble ... she was in a world of trouble.

  Chapter Three

  Gregory Gulch was coated with pristine white snow. The scent of green pines and evergreen filled the air.

  At first glance no one would have imagined the grisly scene Marshal Forester had found yesterday. He had only been in Gregory Gulch six months, having replaced Marshal Stanley, so this disruption to the peace was new to him. So far the camp had been quite peaceful during that time—until yesterday.

  Forester still wasn’t sure he could believe the way Big Jim had been cut. How could the boy have done something like that, but who else could have killed Big Jim? Everybody in town liked him. But with the boy missing, he sure looked guilty, Forester thought as he watched the miners lower the pine box into the ground.

  The miners had to use their picks on the frozen ground. The clicks of the mining tools echoed around them. Usually when someone died and it was this cold they would store the body until it was warmer. But not this time. The miners were determined that Big Jim would have a proper burial.

  The ugly rust-colored dirt provided a harsh contrast to the pristine white snow. It was also a reminder that though this pretty country looked clean, it was also full of danger.

  One of the men said a quick prayer, his breath rising into the cold air like steam escaping a locomotive. When he’d finished everyone said amen, then quickly picked up their shovels and began covering the pine box with stiff dirt that sounded more like rocks hitting the wood than snow.

  That was, all but one man.

  He was a stranger. Forester recognized him as the snake oil salesman who’d arrived yesterday morning. He wouldn’t have to wonder long who the man was because the stranger was walking his way.

  “Marshal.” The man greeted him with a curt nod. “My name is John McCoy. I am Jim’s half brother.”

  “I heard you’d arrived yesterday. Didn’t have any idea that you were related to Big Jim.”

  “I didn’t tell anybody.”

  Forester cleared his throat. “So you got to see your brother before ... ?”

  McCoy nodded. “Yep. I parked my wagon near his house and Jim invited me to supper.”

  “Walk on back to the office with me. I want to get what information you can give me,” Forester said, but he didn’t wait for a reply. It was too damn cold to jaw-jack in the street. And he wasn’t used to getting arguments, anyway.

  At the jailhouse, consisting of two small rooms, Forester shrugged out of his coat and hustled over to the potbellied stove to stoke the fire. The strong smell of coffee beckoned him. “Have a seat,” he said over his shoulder. “Want some coffee?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Forester poured himself a cup of black coffee before sitting down behind his desk. He reared back in his chair as he looked shrewdly at the man in front of him. John McCoy sure didn’t look anything like Big Jim. This man was downright skinny with black hair and small, shifty black eyes. However, Big Jim had been broad-shouldered and had always worn faded overalls with a blue flannel shirt, a gun and a bowie knife tucked into his work belt He hadn’t been a young man, but a weathered veteran. Big Jim would scare most men with his thick black beard and long black hair tinged with gray.

  Nope, these two were different as night and day.

  But then, Forester thought, maybe he was judging the man too quickly. “So, tell me what you know about what went on yesterday.” Forester steepled his hands in front of him and watched McCoy. “You were probably one of the last people to see Big Jim alive. Why did you come to Gregory Gulch, anyway?”

  “There’s no law against visiting my brother, is there?”

  “Not until a murder takes place. Then I have to start asking questions.”

  “I see,” McCoy said, rubbing his chin. He paused and seemed to be thinking of what he should say. “Well, I hadn’t seen my brother in a few years, so I figured I’d come up and see what he had going for him. Thought I might help him work his claim for a spell. Anyway, he told me to come by his place about six, and I could have supper and meet his partner.”

  “And did you?”

  “Yep.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Supper started off normal, but right after that the kid and Jim got into an argument.”

  “I’m surprised,” Forester said as he got up and poured himself another cup of coffee from the old silver pot on the stove. “Sure you don’t want a cup?”

  “I believe I will this time,” McCoy said. Once he had his coffee in hand, he asked, “Why would you be surprised? I’m not sure I liked the boy.”

  “That a fact? Most people in camp liked the kid. And yesterday I heard they struck another vein of gold. They were in pretty good moods the last time I saw them.”

  “Their argument had something to do with the gold,” McCoy said with assurance. “I didn’t stay long after supper. I told Jim I’d meet him in the morning, and ’course you know what I found the next day.”

  “As I recall, you were the first person there,” Forester said and took another sip of coffee.

  “So what you going to do about it, Marshal?”

  Forester leaned forward and placed his coffee mug on the desk. “MacHenry is going to sketch a picture of the boy and then I’m going to have it circulated to all the law offices in hopes that somebody finds him. I’m real interested in what the kid has to say.”

  “Must have been an evil kid to do something like that.”

  “For now, it’s just suspicion of murder. We won’t know the whole story until we find the boy and get some answers.”

  McCoy shifted in the chair. “I guess the mine belongs to me now that Jim is dead, seeing as I’m his next o’ kin.”

  Forester stared at the man, wondering what was it about the man that struck him wrong. From his appearance, he looked like an upright citizen, but yet... “I’m not too sure about that, but now that you’ve brought up the subject, I’ll walk with you to the Register of Deeds office and we’ll check. I probably need to know that information myself.”

  They trudged through the snow to the second log cabin on the left and entered the building. “Usually there’s a line. Guess we got lucky today,” Forester said when they walked right up to the counter. “Jake. We need you to pull Big Jim’s deed and see who he left it to.”

  Jake nodded and went over to a wooden file cabinet where he started rummaging through his files. “Here it is.” He pulled out the deed, walked back over to the counter, and unfolded the document “Let me see.” He scanned down the paper. “It says if something happens to Big Jim that his part of the mine goes to Mary Costner, but that must have been a mistake. It should have said Mark Costner, his partner.”

  “So he didn’t leave anything to his family?” McCoy asked.

  “Only in the event that his partner dies. Mark’s half of the deed says the same thing.”

  Forester turned to McCoy. “Guess you’re out of luck. What are you going to do now?”

  “Don’t know, Marshal. Reckon I’ll have to hope they find the boy so everythin
g can be settled,” McCoy said as he walked out of the office with Forester. “I’ll be seeing you. Not much use of me staying around here. Need to earn a living with my snake oil.”

  “Before you leave town I guess I need to ask you a few questions.”

  McCoy looked surprised. “Such as?”

  “You said you had dinner with Big Jim. And you were the first person to find Jim?” Forester watched as McCoy nodded. “So where were you in between those times?”

  “Are you accusing me, Marshal?”

  “It depends on your answer.” Forester gave the man a slow smile. “Everybody here is a suspect. And seeing as you could possibly gain a gold mine, some would think that you look as guilty as the boy.”

  “Can’t help it if I’m kin,” McCoy blustered, his face turning red. “You see, Marshal, I have an alibi.” Forester leaned against the post and crossed his arms. “I’m listening.”

  “I spent the night with the lovely Kate. She’ll be glad to vouch for me.”

  Forester chuckled. “Didn’t take you long to meet the town whore.”

  McCoy smiled. “Man’s got urges.”

  “Have to agree with you there. I’ll check out your story, and if it holds water then you can go. But you probably should leave some way I can contact you in case something comes up.”

  “How ’bout I swing back through in a month?” “Fine,” Forester said, and headed back toward his office, thinking that the man sure was quick to point out that he stood to inherit the mine. But if he had an alibi there wasn’t any way he could hold him.

  As McCoy watched the marshal walk off, he turned, his face burning with anger. There was always something in his way. Just when he thought he had the perfect plan, something went haywire. He could feel the wealth at his fingertips. And he still couldn’t get his hands on that gold. Such easy money for the picking—no more working his ass off for tips. Good thing he had an alibi—didn’t need the marshal getting suspicious.

  The only thing standing in his way was that Costner woman. It was up to him to end the problem, one way or the other. He needed to find the girl before the marshal did and figure out who she was.

  By the time they stopped in Windy Bend night had fallen.

  Mary had been dozing off and on as she snuggled into the fur to keep warm. She actually felt as though she’d been riding with a big bear, but since she was warm and his back soft she wasn’t going to complain. Her headache had finally eased off into a dull thud, but the rest of her body was sore and cramped from the long ride.

  “We’re here,” Carter said.

  She straightened, her aching body protesting as she did, when they stopped in front of a gate. She glanced around Carter and saw two men standing with shotguns across their arms. With belligerent scowls, they blocked the way.

  “That’s far enough, mister. State your business and be quick about it,” one of the two burly guards shouted.

  “Has it been that long, Stanley?” Carter asked.

  “Well, I’ll be a clabber-headed idiot,” Stanley drawled. He moved over to shake Carter’s hand. “Your ma will be mighty glad to see you.” Stanley peered around Carter. “Is that your wife peeking out from behind you? She’s a right pretty filly, the best I can see.”

  Mary wasn’t sure she liked being compared to a horse, and she definitely wasn’t anybody’s wife.

  “No. She isn’t my wife,” Carter told him as she shifted in his saddle.

  Mary noticed he didn’t sound too thrilled with the idea, either. Maybe they were both just alike; if so, there were bound to be fireworks ahead. Instinctively, she wanted to lash out at Carter, but wisely she kept her mouth shut. She didn’t want to do anything to draw more attention to herself.

  “Open the gate. We’re bushed,” Carter said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, and we can catch up on what’s been happening.”

  Stanley shoved the gate open. “You got it”

  Mary peeked around Carter to see a very large ranch house at the end of the road, surpassing anything she could have imagined. Smoke curled out of several chimneys into the black sky. She could smell the smoke from her perch.

  Snowed covered the brown cedar shingles of the ranch house and soft lights shone in the windows, providing a welcome sight The perfect home, Mary thought. When they drew closer, she could see that a long porch ran across the front of the house. There were four rocking chairs that would be used when the weather was warm.

  Carter stopped at the hitching post, and Rick dismounted and tied his horse, then came over to help Mary off. The minute her feet touched the ground, she collapsed. Rick caught her and held her up. “Whoa, little lady. I bet your legs have gone to sleep.”

  “I think so,” Mary agreed. “They’re tingling,” she added as she clung to Rick’s neck.

  Carter was on the ground frowning at both of them, and Mary wondered why as he reached for her. “I’ll take her.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of walking,” she informed him, shaking off his arm, but as she took a step, she stumbled. Mary was determined to prove she didn’t need him, but her legs gave way again and she almost fell.

  “I can see that,” Carter said, slipping his arm around her waist “But since you have finally woken up, let’s not take the chance of you falling and hitting your head again.”

  Slowly, the feeling started coming back to her legs. “My legs are much better now,” Mary insisted. “You can let me go. ” When she was being held this close to Carter, she experienced a delicious and decidedly uncomfortable feeling that she didn’t understand. Until she did, she would just as soon stay away from him.

  “Humor me.” There was a hard edge to his voice that warned her not to continue.

  The front door of the ranch house flew open and a beautiful woman appeared. She took one look at Carter, squealed, and threw herself into his arms.

  Mary stepped quickly to the side. It was a good thing she could stand, or she had the feeling she’d be on the ground, Carter had let her go so quickly. Evidently, he wasn’t as concerned about her safety as he’d said.

  She watched as they embraced. This had to be Carter’s mother, Mary thought Who else would be so happy to see him? After all, he hadn’t been that easy to get along with up until now.

  They had the same hair color, midnight black that shone as if it reflected moonbeams. And, Mary had to admit, Carter was handsome with rugged masculine strength carved into every inch of his jaw. A very stubborn jaw, she guessed, but today he was not her friend, no matter how pretty the package.

  “It’s about time you came home,” the woman said as she stepped back and straightened her clothes. “I was beginning to worry something had happened to you.” She turned and looked at the other man. “This must be Rick.”

  The woman moved over and hugged him. “I’ve heard so much about you. Welcome to Monroe Cattle Company,” she said.

  Mary had thought maybe the woman hadn’t seen her, but suddenly she whirled and stared directly at Mary. “And who is this, Carter? You didn’t say anything about bringing company with you. Could this be my future daughter-in-law?”

  “Not hardly, Mother,” Carter said with a wry chuckle.

  Mary glared at Carter. She really didn’t like the sarcastic way he’d said that. It was like she was mud on his boot. Of course, she wasn’t his future anything; however, she didn’t like the fact that he hadn’t even considered her as marriage material. How insulting. Of course, she wouldn’t marry him. She didn’t even know who in the hell he really was. But she took insult at his comment, nonetheless.

  Carter took Mary’s elbow. “This is Mary. She’s had an accident and doesn’t remember anything about herself.” He turned to Mary. “My mother, Judith Monroe.”

  “You poor dear,” the woman said as she slid her arm around Mary. “How frightening it must be for you. We’ll get you settled in, and you’ll feel better before you know it” Judith ushered Mary into the house and straight over to a staircase on the right side of what appeared to be a h
uge parlor.

  They started up the long staircase, leaving the men behind. Mary was so surprised by Judith’s warm welcome that she had done nothing more than nod in response to everything the woman was saying. She was being treated like a guest instead of a criminal.

  Once upstairs, they moved down a long hallway. When they reached the third door to the right, Judith stopped. “I think you’ll like this room.” She opened the door. “It’s cheerful and bright. Stay right here until I light the oil lamps.” When she had lit the last lamp, she gestured for Mary to enter the room.

  It was the prettiest room that Mary had ever seen. It was decorated in several different shades of green. There was a dark green rug on the floor and the huge bed was covered with a light green quilt The pillows were ruffled with white eyelets all around.

  “This is so pretty,” Mary said. “Am I taking somebody’s room?” She knew this bedroom had to belong to a woman. Perhaps Carter’s wife? No, that couldn’t be it because Judith had thought Mary was his intended.

  “This was my daughter’s room. I think it will suit you well.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Monroe. But—”

  “Please call me Judith.”

  “Thank you, Judith, but will your daughter mind?”

  The woman was quiet for a long moment “I guess Carter didn’t tell you. Of course, he didn’t, he never talks about it You see, my daughter is dead.”

  Mary gasped. “I’m so sorry.” She could see the pain in the woman’s eyes.

  “It was a long time ago, but the hurt never goes away,” Judith said in a quiet voice. “However, you have just arrived. I’m sure you must be very tired. We can talk later, after you have rested.” She reached out and touched Mary’s forehead. “My goodness, you do have a nasty lump on your head.”

  “It hurts—” Mary almost said like a son of a bitch, but caught herself. Her language was terrible from working around so many men for so long. “Too.”

  “I imagine it does. I’ll bring you some ice for the swelling. Does Carter have your bags?”

  “I—I don’t have any. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure how I ended up in your son’s company. I just know that when I came to, I was on a horse with your son.”