Pete (The Cowboys)

by Leigh Greenwood

  “Are you missing a knife?” Pete asked.

  “I don’t know. Things have been too mixed up this morning to tell. If I’m missing anything, Cookie probably has it. He’s always taking what he wants without asking.”

  “Go check,” Pete said.

  Dolores left.

  “Did you hear anything last night?” Pete asked Eddie.

  “No. I went to bed after we finished talking. I didn’t wake up until Dolores called me for breakfast.”

  “None of the boys did,” Ray said. “Somebody woulda said something if they did.”

  “The horses would have waked them up if there’d been strangers about,” Eddie said.

  “Did you hear anything?” Pete asked Anne.

  Anne didn’t want to lie and say she hadn’t heard anyone at all. Neither did she want to tell everyone the only person she’d heard was Pete trying to slip into their room unnoticed sometime after two o’clock. That would make everyone suspect him.

  “I mean other than me coming to bed late,” Pete added.

  Anne breathed an inward sigh of relief. She wouldn’t have to lie, and Pete didn’t want her to hide the fact that he’d been up late. It also showed he couldn’t have had anything to do with Belser’s murder. She knew he hadn’t—she chastised herself for even thinking of it, but she couldn’t help it. Everybody would say Pete had the most to gain by getting rid of Belser.

  “No, I heard no one,” Anne said. “I’m a light sleeper. I’m sure I would have heard anyone enter the house.”

  “None of us heard anything,” Eddie said, “but somebody murdered Belser.”

  Anne didn’t like the way he said that, or the way he looked at Pete. She couldn’t imagine why Eddie would suspect Pete, but she didn’t know what else that look could mean.

  “Ray, ride into town and notify the sheriff,” Pete said. “I’d like him out here before nightfall if possible.”

  “Sure,” the boy said, clearly glad to leave the room.

  “The rest of us will go about our business as usual. We’ve got cows to round up.”

  “You can’t mean to do that now,” Anne said.

  “Belser’s death doesn’t change the fact we need to get our cows to market before the bottom falls out,” Pete said.

  “But Belser’s been killed.”

  “Stopping work won’t bring him back.”

  “I know, but…” Somehow it seemed disrespectful to go about their regular work as if nothing had happened.

  “It’s up to the sheriff to decide what to do next,” Pete said. “We can’t sit here doing nothing all day. Eddie, do you mind telling the men what’s happened?”

  “I imagine they already know.”

  “Then see they get back to work. They won’t do any good speculating about who did it. I still want to pull out by noon.”

  “You leaving before the sheriff gets here?”

  Anne didn’t like the way Eddie asked that question. It was almost as if he thought Pete might know something about the murder.

  “No. We were both in the house last night, so we’d both better be here when he arrives. We can ride out tonight, or tomorrow morning if it gets too late.”

  Eddie left. Only Pete and Anne remained in the bedroom.

  “Do you know what could have happened?” she asked.

  “No. If anything, I’d have thought Belser wanted to kill me. Do you know if he has any enemies?”

  “He wasn’t very likable, but he never did anything to make anybody want to kill him.”

  “One person did,” Pete said.

  Yes, Anne thought, and everybody is going to think it was you. She could swear he’d been in the bed with her all night. He hadn’t, but she could swear it. Regardless of the changes since they had known each other as children, she was certain Peter could never kill anyone.

  But was he the same man?

  That thought wouldn’t leave her. She could give herself lists of reasons why Belser and Mrs. Dean had to be wrong, but the question continued to nag at her.

  What if Pete wasn’t Peter Warren?

  She refused to let herself think of that. Pete wasn’t a killer. He was her husband. She was his wife. She was the only one who could absolutely clear him from suspicion in this murder.

  But would her testimony do that? Some people would say she’d say anything to defend her husband. Others, some truly vicious people who hated her because of her Indian blood, would insist she’d say anything to keep her position as the wife of a wealthy rancher. They’d whisper that she was in cahoots with an imposter to defraud poor Belser of his rightful inheritance. They’d say they all knew Belser meant to throw her off the ranch the minute he got control.

  He had. Belser had told Anne more than once that he considered her nothing more than a parasite. He would have taken great pleasure in making her leave.

  Cold fear settled in Anne’s stomach. If anything happened to Pete, she’d be at her uncle’s mercy again. He’d force her to marry Cyrus McCaine. That was all the more reason why Pete had to be Peter, why he had to be innocent of this murder.

  Pete sat at the desk in his office, but he wasn’t getting anything done. He would be glad to get the next few hours over with. He didn’t know what was going to happen, but he couldn’t expect the sheriff to believe he hadn’t killed Belser when his own men did.

  Nobody had said anything. They didn’t have to. They continued their preparations, but the mood of cheerful excitement had given away to one of moody quiet. Their conversation became subdued whenever he was around. The younger ones wouldn’t look him in the eye, even found reasons to stay out of his way. When they thought he wasn’t looking, their eyes followed him, quietly accusing him of what no one wanted to say out loud.

  Pete refused to acknowledge the shift of feeling and continued with his work as though nothing had happened. He sat down at the same table with the men when they had their midday meal. He addressed them when they were ready to leave, telling them he and Eddie would ride out to their camp that evening or early the next morning, depending on how long the sheriff needed them.

  No one had said anything, and they’d ridden away in silence.

  After that there hadn’t been much to do. Anne and Dolores worked in the kitchen, cleaning up after lunch, beginning preparations for a supper that could include several men in addition to the sheriff. For a while, he and Eddie worked together in the office. For the last hour he’d been alone.

  A knock sounded on the door. “Come in.”

  Anne stood in the doorway, worry creasing her lovely face. Pete got up, crossed the room, and slipped his arms around her waist. “You’ve got to stop worrying. The sheriff’s visit won’t be much fun, but it’ll soon be over.”

  “He’ll want to know who killed Belser.”

  “All we can tell him is what we know.”

  “But he won’t believe us.”

  “He’ll probably think I did it, but he can’t prove it. Now sit down and stop worrying about me. I’ve been in scrapes before and gotten out. I’ll get out of this one.

  Anne allowed herself to be seated in a captain’s chair, but she didn’t relax. “This one’s serious.”

  “I know.”

  He was confused. He’d been certain Belser was responsible for Peter’s death. No one else had anything to gain by it.

  “Who would want to murder Belser?” Pete asked. “Besides me, of course.”

  “I don’t know. Nobody disliked him that much.”

  “That’s what I think. Which brings us back to my being the most logical person to have killed him. But since I didn’t—and I’m not sure anyone is going to believe that but you and me—we’d better bend our minds to trying to figure out who did.”

  “How can we do that?”

  “By thinking logically. I’ve been thinking about this for the last hour, and I can come up with only two possibilities. Someone murdered Belser because they had something to gain by his death or something to lose by his staying alive.”<
br />
  “What could that be?”

  Maybe Belser knew who was responsible for Peter Warren’s murder, and the killers didn’t feel certain he wouldn’t tell on them. But Pete couldn’t tell Anne that. Not yet. “I don’t know. But there’s another possibility, one I like even less.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That someone killed Belser to incriminate me.”

  “But why?”

  “To get this ranch, you, or both.”

  “Who’d want me?”

  “You’re very beautiful. A lot of men would count themselves fortunate to have you for a wife.”

  “Nobody ever thought I was beautiful except you.”

  “You never acted like you were beautiful until we bought those clothes. But now you know you are, and you’ll never go around hiding in corners again. You’ve got courage, too. You haven’t gotten used to the idea of using it yet, but you will.” He still got angry at Carl Warren for treating her so shabbily all these years. He didn’t understand why no one could see what a loyal, loving, strong woman she was.

  “Who could want the ranch?” Anne asked.

  “Just about anybody in the Territory. I never met a man who didn’t like the idea of being rich.”

  “Enough to kill Belser?”

  “That does reduce the size of the list, but not much.”

  “But how could someone have gotten into the house?”

  “Now that brings the list down rather sharply. But it also leaves us once again with two choices.”

  “What are they?”

  “Either the person killed Belser himself—unlikely because a stranger would be noticed by the hands during the day and by the horses at night—or somebody here was paid to do the murder.”

  Anne blanched. He didn’t like to frighten her like that, but he was certain somebody on the ranch had killed Belser. Until he knew different, he had to assume Anne was in just as much danger as he was.

  “Nobody here would have done a thing like that.”

  “Offer a certain kind of man enough money and he’ll kill his best friend.”

  “But the cowhands are just boys, like Ray.”

  Anne got to her feet. She looked about her like a caged animal looking for a way out. She started to walk first one way, then the other. He got up and gripped her by the shoulders until she stopped fighting him.

  “I didn’t believe it when you said you were shot,” she said. “I mean I did believe it because you said so, but you were so strong—as though you’d never been hurt in your whole life. We all acted like it never happened. In a few more days I might have been able to forget the attack outside of Big Bend. But I can’t forget Belser.”

  She started to shake. He pulled her to him and put his arms around her. She resisted at first, then threw her arms around him. He held her tightly and kissed the top of her head.

  “Your uncle neglected your education more seriously than I thought. Not only did he neglect to tell you that you had beauty and courage, he failed to teach you that some people will do anything for money and power. Some very nice people, people who are your friends, people you thought you knew. When a ranch like this is at stake, some people will do anything.”

  “But it’s not at stake. It belongs to you.”

  “Somebody has twice tried to kill me. They may now be trying to frame me for Belser’s murder. If I’m out of the way, you’re the only one standing between some very determined person and this ranch.”

  “But I don’t own it.”

  “You would as my widow.”

  “Then someone might want to kill me?”

  “I don’t intend to let them. I’ve become very fond of you.”

  She looked up at him with those big black eyes. “How much?”

  He didn’t dare answer that question. He couldn’t afford to hear the answer.

  “Have you learned to love me?” she asked.

  That question rocked him hard. He could tell by the look in her eyes that the answer was important to her.

  “You said you wanted us to remain friends, just like we used to be.” He’d read that in one of her letters.

  “I thought that’s what I wanted, but it isn’t. Not anymore.”

  He couldn’t make her think he loved her, then leave as soon as he found his money. “I haven’t known you long—as a woman, that is—but no man could know you for long and not fall in love with you.”

  “Could you?”

  “Very easily.”

  Then he kissed her. Her lips were soft, her mouth yielding. Parting her lips, she raised herself to meet his kiss. There was nothing shy or tentative about her response. She clung to him, kissing him with an intensity that lit a fire in his veins. Crushing her to him, he pressed his mouth to hers, forcing her lips wider with his thrusting tongue. She wasn’t a woman who needed much instruction. Her tongue challenged his. Dancing and whirling, they engaged in a sinuous exchange that caused Pete to hold Anne even tighter, which caused Anne to mold her body tightly against his.

  As he roused her passion, his own grew stronger. Blood pounded in his brain, leapt in his heart, and made his knees tremble. His emotions whirled and skidded, sending shock waves throughout his entire body. His kisses deepened as he forced his mouth hard against her lips, as he ground his body against hers. The need deep within him, which he’d been denying for days, burst free from its bonds and came rocketing to the surface—hungry, greedy, ravenous for what it had been denied so long.

  The door opened. “The sheriff is here,” Eddie said.

  Anne tore herself from Pete’s arms, but he couldn’t tell if her look, made up of equal parts of consternation, desire, and disbelief, was for what had happened between them or for Eddie’s catching them in a passionate embrace. He knew what he felt. A few minutes more, and he’d have taken Anne right there on top of the desk. He managed to calm his racing heart, control his treacherous voice.

  He put his arms around Anne as he hoped a loving husband would hold his wife. “Good,” he said. “Send him in.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Anne grabbed Pete’s arm. She didn’t know why she was looking to him for protection when he was the one who needed protecting.

  “It’s all right,” he murmured. “Everything will be all right.”

  Things had never been all right. Every time something good came along, something else came to take it away. Now, when she’d finally discovered love, the sheriff was here to take it from her. She wouldn’t let it happen. No matter what it took, she wouldn’t let that happen.

  “What happened?” the sheriff asked.

  “I’m sure Ray has already told you as much as we know,” Pete said.

  “We were so busy getting ready for the roundup, we didn’t notice he hadn’t come down,” Anne said.

  “When did you notice?” the sheriff asked.

  “When everyone had finished breakfast and gone outside,” Anne said. “I’d fired Belser. I wanted him gone before Pete and the men left.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I wasn’t sure I could make him go.”

  “Where’s the body?” the sheriff asked.

  “In his room,” Pete said. “We left everything just as we found it.”

  The sheriff looked surprised.

  “That’s what the sheriff back in Illinois said we were supposed to do.”

  “You were involved in a murder there?” the sheriff asked.

  “We had a vagrant killed one night. The people moved him off the street so it wouldn’t upset the ladies. The sheriff was real sore about that.”

  “He should have been,” the sheriff said. “I’d better go see Belser.”

  “Here’s the key,” Pete said, taking the key from his pocket. “I wanted to make sure nobody touched anything,” he said when the sheriff’s eyes narrowed. “All four of us have been in the house since we found him. We can vouch that no one has gone up the stairs since.”

  “He’s sure you did it,” Anne said as soon as the sherif
f left the room.

  “I’m the logical suspect. Unless something turns up we don’t know about, I’m the only one he has.”

  “But you didn’t do it.”

  “I know that, but the sheriff is the one we have to convince.”

  “I can’t think of a soul who’d want to kill Belser,” Eddie said.

  “Me, neither,” Dolores added.

  “The most logical explanation is that someone in the house—one of us—killed him,” Pete said.

  “You can’t suspect me!” Dolores exclaimed.

  “No, but the sheriff is bound to notice he was killed with one of your knives. If one of us didn’t kill him, it almost had to be one of the cowhands. I don’t see how anybody else could have gotten into the house without being noticed.”

  “He could have come from the hills behind the house,” Eddie pointed out. “That way the horses might not have caught his scent.”

  “Who would know the house that well?”

  “Maybe he’s been here before,” Dolores suggested. “Carl used to have lots of people stay here for days at a time.”

  “It’s probably someone none of us will think of,” Pete said, “but we’ve got to realize the sheriff is going to be sure one of us did it.”

  “How can you be so calm?” Anne asked Pete. Her stomach was tied in so many knots, she felt she’d be sick any minute.

  “I don’t have much choice. Unless one of us confesses, the sheriff isn’t going to be able to solve this thing. It’ll be up to us to figure out what happened.”

  “But we’ve already tried.”

  “Then we have to keep trying. You can be sure he’ll keep trying to pin it on me.”

  That became clear as soon as the sheriff came back downstairs. “I want to know where all of you were last evening,” he said, but his gaze remained fixed on Pete.

  Anne waited for Pete to start, but he nodded for her to relate the events of the evening. That frightened her. She was used to people like the sheriff ignoring her. She murmured a silent prayer to her French grandfather, the arrogant aristocrat who’d taken a Crow maiden to live with him, then abandoned her to return to France after he’d made his fortune. If she’d ever needed a drop of his imperious pride, she needed it now.