Stained Snow

by Brown, Fallon

  Chapter 21

  Barnes Ranch

  April 3, 1888

  William checked the girth strap on the saddle before straightening and running a hand down the horse’s neck. The bay gelding stretched into his touch then gave his shoulder a nudge when he stopped.

  “Just a little while, and we’ll be heading out.” His stomach tightened. He didn’t want to leave Maggie. It needed to be done. He had to stop Thomas.

  When he walked back into the house, Maggie put food into a sack. “It won’t see you through a long time,” she said without looking up. “I hope you’ll be back before it runs out.”

  William’s chest tightened as a tear hit the top of the table. He moved over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “I have to do this, Maggie. I have to stop him.”

  “Why can’t you stay here with us? He’s probably not going to come back again. He never really cared. That’s why it was always so easy for him to ride away.”

  He brushed his lips across her forehead and into her hair. He’d promised George he wouldn’t touch her again. Right now, he couldn’t keep that promise. They both needed this moment.

  “You’re mine now, Maggie, so he’s going to want you back. He could never resist taking something that was mine.”

  She shivered against him, and he wanted to hold her in his arms. He couldn’t afford to do that. A throat cleared behind him, and he turned his head to where George stood in the doorway. Adam stood silent behind him. “I saw your horse was ready.”

  William nodded and stepped away from Maggie. “I need to be going.”

  “You don’t, son. You don’t have to protect us.”

  He glanced back toward Maggie before looking at George again. “I do. Once Thomas is taken care of, I’ll come back. We can discuss some of those other choices you gave me.”

  A twinkle came into the older man’s eyes. “I hope it’ll be a better one this time.”

  William couldn’t stop himself from brushing a hand down Maggie’s back. “I’m pretty sure it will be.”

  “Good.” He turned to Maggie. “Breakfast ready?”

  She nodded and set the sack of food aside before turning to the fire and taking the pan off the stove. William sat at the table and dug into his eggs without a word. He couldn’t stop from looking up at her several times.

  He wasn’t even in the saddle yet and leaving was already killing him. There wasn’t anything else to be done. He hoped finding Thomas would be quick, and he’d be capable of riding back here when it was over.

  After he’d finished eating, he stood up. “I need to be going.”

  Maggie kept her eyes on the table but both George and Adam looked up at him. The younger man’s face appeared as hard set as usual, but something else shone in his dark brown eyes. Some sort of understanding they’d reached the day before. William brushed his hand over the back of Maggie’s neck, and she finally lifted her face to him. He stared down for a moment, and a groan pulled out of his throat. He pressed his lips to hers. She lifted a hand to his face, but he didn’t draw the kiss out. He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he told her. “If I’m able, I’ll come back to you.”

  A choked sob caught in her throat, but she nodded. “Please, Will.”

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead then straightened as the other two men averted their gazes. He lifted the sack of food from the table and turned away.

  “Will.” George stopped him before he reached the door. He glanced back. “Take care of yourself so you can come back.”

  William nodded and grabbed his hat from beside the door. He walked out to the barn and stashed the small sack of food into one of his saddlebags. When he led the horse out of the barn, three figures stood on the porch.

  He should ride away. Holding off made this harder on all of them. When he swung into the saddle, he turned the horse toward the house instead. He didn’t say a word, just sat there for a moment. The tears running down Maggie’s face were almost too much for him to take.

  “As soon as I’m able,” he told her again.

  Maggie nodded, and he spun the horse around, kicking it into a lope out of the yard.

  #

  Pierce, Colorado

  May 5, 1888

  William reined the horse in as the town came into view. When he’d left Bristol a week ago, Thomas had already been two days ahead of him. He’d looked around a few other towns along this rail line, but no one would say they’d seen him. If Thomas caught the train, he would never find him.

  He had to find him.

  He scratched a hand over his jaw and winced as his beard scratched his palm. He hadn’t taken time in the last town to get a shave. He needed to before he left again. Then stock up on supplies. He had no idea how long he’d be on his brother’s trail.

  It had already been too long.

  He rubbed a hand over his shoulder as he urged the horse forward again. The skin where the bullet grazed him puckered into a scar. It didn’t bother him too much unless he moved quickly. The one on his hip though, it still pained him daily. Being in the saddle didn’t help of course. Being on the trail hadn’t given it a chance to heal right.

  He pulled his horse up in front of the saloon and swung down from the saddle. He cringed as the landing sent pain through his wounded hip. After a moment, his breath came back, and he pushed away the pain. Still, he moved with a limp as he walked up to the saloon. He’d grab a drink and listen for any news before he went for that shave.

  He stepped inside and crossed right to the bar, gesturing to the barkeep. Once he had a beer, he turned, resting back against the bar. The saloon was still fairly quiet. The conversations hadn’t stopped when he came in.

  He took a sip of his beer as he strained for any conversation that might help him determine where his brother had gone. By the time he’d drained the beer, he had nothing. Unless he was interested in a range war or where it looked like the next gold strike would be. Neither of those meant anything to him. He wanted to stop his brother and get back to Maggie.

  A slice of pain went through him at the thought of her. A month. He’d sent updates through the telegraph to George. It wasn’t the way to communicate to her. There really wasn’t a way to. He hoped she understood and didn’t think he’d abandoned her too. He set the glass back on the counter and closed his eyes.

  “Another one?” The barkeep wiped down the surface of the bar as he came over to Will.

  William shook his head then opened his eyes. “Is there a place I could get a hair cut and a shave?”

  “Yeah, we got a barber here. Down the street, between the diner and brothel.” At William’s raised eyebrow, the man laughed. “Even whores gotta eat. And the men like to get cleaned up before they go back to their wives.”

  That made William a little sick. He’d never had the desire to pay a woman for a night. Of course, he’d been married to Anna before he even turned nineteen. He’d never wanted anyone else after that. Not while she was still alive.

  He nodded at the barkeep, and left the saloon. Maybe Thomas hadn’t even come through here. He hoped he hadn’t lost him completely. If he had, there wasn’t much more he could do. He couldn’t follow an invisible trail.

  He made his way down the street to where the barkeep said the barber was. His leg nearly gave out on him once. After the shave, he would have to find a bed somewhere. He didn’t usually mind sleeping on the ground, but it made his hip pain him more. In the morning, he’d decide which way to go next.

  When William stepped into the barber’s, one older man stood back in the corner. The man turned at his approach. “Help you?” he asked.

  “Need a shave. Maybe a cut too.”

  “Sit then.”

  The barber wasn’t long on words. That didn’t bother him. William wasn’t in the mood for conversation. He sat in the chair and closed his eyes while the barber came over and lathered up his face. He drifted off while the blade scraped at the hair on his cheeks a
nd chin. He startled slightly as it moved to his neck but settled again when the barber put a hand to his shoulder. He didn’t close his eyes again. He needed that bed.

  As the barber finished up his shave, his stomach rumbled, reminding him he needed food as well. He climbed out of the chair and dug out coins to pay the barber. He didn’t have a whole lot more to spare. He needed to find Thomas or he would either go hungry or need to find some work. He could spare enough for another meal and a room. The rest would have to go to his supplies.

  He walked back to the diner, not even venturing close to the brothel. He smiled at the waitress who led him to a table. He wanted to eat and get some sleep. He tipped his chair back while he waited for his food to arrive and almost drifted off again until a conversation at the next table broke through.

  “Heard Tilden down in Byers hired him some new gunman to go after those squatters.”

  “Heard they weren’t squatting. They were on that land first.”

  “Still he wants to get rid of them. This hired gun business though, I don’t like it.”

  “Not really any of our business. Long as it doesn’t come up here.”

  “That’s where it’s headed. They’re trying to shove our cattle into a corner. Too many damn farms sprouting up.”

  He didn’t understand why their conversation had caught his attention. Except the talk of a hired gun. Rumors had gone around for years of Thomas selling his gun to the highest bidder. He was a good enough shot and didn’t have any qualms about killing. Sometimes, he wondered if his brother had a conscience at all. He let these thoughts brew until his food came. There wasn’t much he could do about it now; dark would be coming soon.

  He’d leave for Byers in the morning.

  #

  Byers, Colorado

  June 15, 1888

  William rode down the street of Byers and noticed it seemed quiet for the middle of the day. Especially if there was a range war going on here. He’d wanted to get down here sooner, but he’d run into storms nearly every day, slowing his progress. His food had been stolen from his camp during the night. He’d had to take on a job for a month so he could make some money.

  He didn’t even know if Thomas would still be here. If he had been in the first place. Those men could have been talking about anyone. It sounded so much like what Thomas would go for, he’d had to check it out.

  He dismounted at the saloon and headed inside. He still moved with a limp in his gait, even though the hip didn’t pain him nearly as much. He might always limp. He walked up to the bar and leaned against it, taking some of the weight off his bad leg. The barkeep swiped the counter with his rag as he made his way down to William.

  “Beer,” William told him. He waited until the man slid it across the counter to him. “It’s quiet around here,” he commented. “I’d heard there was a war going on.”

  The man’s eyes sharpened. “Was. Marshal ran a man out on the rails. He started killin’ too many of the wrong side.”

  Something tightened in his chest. “Who was this man? One of the squatters?”

  The barkeep glanced around then brought his gaze back to William. “Who are you, boy? You look like a ranch man.”

  His fingers twitched against the glass. “Not anymore. Lost my place up north. I’m not anything right now.” He didn’t think he would be until he made Thomas pay. “I don’t have a side in this.”

  The barkeep studied him for a moment then nodded. “Hired gun for one of the ranches. Tommy something. I have no interest in what goes on out there, long as they come in here to drink. I didn’t like him coming in here. He drove a lot of my business away.”

  Sounded like Thomas. William wanted to curse. “You said he was driven away from town.”

  The barkeep nodded. “He didn’t stop with the squatters. Started taking out some of the other ranchmen as well. One of them had a lovely wife.” He grinned then. “She also knows how to handle a gun. He tried to take her, and she faced him down then brought the marshal into it. Couldn’t prove he’d been the one to kill her husband, but the marshal didn’t want him around no more.”

  “Do you know which way he went on the rails?”

  The barkeep stilled, and his eyes narrowed. “Thought you didn’t have a side in this.”

  “I don’t. I’m lookin’ for him for my own reasons.” He ran a finger through the moisture on the glass. “This rancher’s woman wasn’t the first he tried to take. He killed mine a year ago.”

  William closed his eyes at the long stream of curses. Then opened them again when the barkeep said, “Sorry, son. The train went west, headed to Denver. That was more’n a week ago. I can’t tell you more than that.”

  William drained his beer and tossed some coins onto the bar. “A few extra for the information,” he said as he turned to leave.

  “What are you gonna do?”

  “Try to find my brother before he hurts anyone else.”

  He left the saloon and walked down to the train depot, hoping there would be a telegraph there. He hadn’t been able to get word to George since leaving Brighton, nearly a week ago. He didn’t want to admit it, but he hoped George would say at least one word about Maggie. He hated not knowing how she was doing. Hated he’d had to leave her. He wouldn’t let Thomas hurt her again.

  He stepped inside, and the depot clerk standing behind the counter looked up at him. “I need to send a telegram.”

  “Who, where, and what?” the clerk asked as he turned to the telegraph.

  William smirked at the terse questions. He hadn’t been asked like that before. “George Barnes in Lay, Colorado.” William waited for the man’s nod then told him, “Heading to Denver. Getting close. Hope to return soon.”

  The clerk scowled as he typed out the words. “You want to put your name?”

  “No. He’ll know who it’s from.”

  “You expect an answer right away?”

  “Not likely.” He might not get one at all. “When’s the next train leave for Denver?”

  The clerk turned to consult the schedule. “Tomorrow morning. You need a ticket?”

  William nodded. The clerk turned to get that for him when the telegraph machine started clicking. “One moment.” He turned back to the machine. When he pulled off the sheet of paper, he turned back. “You Will?”

  William took a step back in surprise then nodded. The clerk held the paper out to him. “Looks like you got a response a lot quicker than you expected.”

  William took the paper from him and scanned it. He had to go back and read it again, his hands suddenly shaking.

  Will,

  You need to come home. Maggie needs you.

  George.

  That was it. Not even a dozen words, and it shook him to his core. The clerk’s voice finally cut through the buzzing in his head. “What?”

  “You going to respond?”

  “Y-yeah,” he stammered. “Ask him what happened.”

  What could have happened? Had Thomas circled back? Hurt her again? He closed his eyes against the fear. From Denver, he could have taken the train north. It would have only been a couple days’ hard ride back to the ranch. If Thomas had done something, he would never forgive himself.

  “Just two words.” The clerk handed the paper over.

  William looked down at it. Get home. He swore under his breath. The clerk seemed concerned but not too disturbed. “Forget the ticket to Denver. How far northwest will the train take me?”

  “Here in Colorado, it can get you to La Porte. If you wanna get to Wyoming Territory, you can ride to-”

  William stopped him. “I need to go to La Porte then. When does it leave?”

  The clerk checked his schedule again. “About an hour.”

  “I need a ticket and passage for my horse.”

  The clerk handed him the ticket, and William passed him the money. “You can board your horse any time before the train leaves. Should be in La Porte in the morning.”

  William nodded and thanked him th
en walked back outside. He held the telegrams in his shaking hand. If things went his way, he could be back out to the ranch less than two days after he left La Porte. He hoped he wouldn’t be too late.

  Chapter 22

  Barnes Ranch, Colorado

  June 18, 1888

  William reined his horse in as the ranch came into sight. In the three days since he’d received the telegrams from George, he hadn’t stopped worrying over them. He’d made it to Walden by nightfall after getting off at La Porte.

  This morning he’d started out before the sun rose. Now, it lowered toward the horizon. Still a lot of movement in the yard below him. When he had left, only Adam had been there. Now at least half a dozen men moved between the barn and bunkhouse.

  He looked for Maggie and felt like a tight band wound around his chest. He could barely breathe through it. His gaze swept the yard then swung back to the porch when someone stepped out. That band released, and he could breathe again when he recognized her. He shifted in the saddle and loosened his grip on the reins before urging his horse forward.

  By the time he reached the yard, Adam walked up to the porch. He focused his gaze on them and the hand Maggie held against her stomach. The careful way Adam approached her. The tears drying on her face.

  Something clutched in his stomach. Was she sick? Is that why George said she needed him? She couldn’t be dying. It just couldn’t happen.

  He nudged the horse, pushing him to go faster, and would have ridden straight to the house if two cowboys hadn’t suddenly stepped in his way, their rifles crossed in front of them. William yanked on the reins, and the horse’s hooves dug into the ground as he tried to stop before running over the two men. “Out of my way.”

  “Not until you tell us who you are and what you’re doin’ here,” the younger of the two men said. “We had enough trouble here as it is.”

  Something twisted around him, squeezing until he thought his insides had been crushed. “What happened? George. Is he-?”