So be it. If he could not get into her bed, there were plenty of other women for that purpose. His real purpose there was to claim the town of Sommers Station for himself, take title to all the property, and add it to his growing real-estate fortune.
The hammering continued and Sommers Station grew, even through the long, cold winter. The Harding Hotel became a reality—three stories, lace curtains at the windows, and a fine restaurant on the first floor. However, Faith refused to have anything to do with the hotel or the restaurant. She had told Tod Harding she did not want to be partially dependent on anyone else for her income. Opening a restaurant in the hotel would mean paying him rent, and it would appear they were in business together, which might not look proper.
She studied herself in the mirror now, proud she’d kept her shape after two babies. She wore a yellow-checked dress of light cotton, with short sleeves trimmed with the same white lace that adorned the slightly scooped neck. The yellow narrow-brimmed bonnet that she tied on matched the dress, the color making her hair look even redder. She wished Gabe were there. He’d never seen her quite so gussied up as this, and it felt good to be feminine again, to feel womanly, attending ladies’ gatherings and spring dances.
That was where she was going this evening, to Sommers Station’s first spring dance. Tod Harding had been after her all winter to allow him to court her. Over and over he had expressed his regrets over her “misfortune,” lamenting that if she had been his wife, he could never have left “such a beautiful, strong, self-reliant woman.” There were moments when he seemed totally sincere in feeling sorry for her predicament, but deep inside she still did not trust the man and never would. He had offered help from his own attorneys in declaring Gabe legally dead, or getting a documented divorce so that she was free to see other men.
Never! Faith thought. She would go to the dance alone. She might dance with a few men, ones like Ben and Buck perhaps, maybe even Tod Harding; but everyone in town would know she was dancing only to be sociable. They all knew that Faith Beaumont was still waiting for her husband to come home. She knew many whispered, and maybe even laughed, about it, thinking her a fool to believe that after nearly four years he would show up again, but she could not let go of her love for Gabe.
She just wished she knew if she was right in her feelings and suspicions about Harding. Bret had cleverly questioned him a few times when he’d visited the saloon, and the wily woman had told Faith she could read a man’s eyes as clearly as most others read books. He knows something, she’d told Faith not long ago. He hasn’t come right out and said it, but he’s hinted. A man full of liquor sometimes says things he’d never say when he’s sober, and Harding hinted to me the other night that maybe Gabe had been arrested. Maybe he’d even been hanged.
Hanged! Surely if that was so, she would have heard about it. She’d sent Buck back to Cheyenne, but there was a new sheriff there now, and he knew nothing about Gabe Beaumont. Buck checked in surrounding towns, and Faith had written several forts and larger cities, asking if there was any record of a Gabe Beaumont being arrested or hanged. None had any news about him.
Maybe it was time to face reality. She had two sons who needed a father, and she was not sure she could live out the rest of her life without a man to hold her, a man to love in return. After having a man like Gabe, a woman missed those things.
She turned away and walked out of her room to the porch, where Maude was sitting in a porch swing reading to Alex and Johnny. She watched her boys a moment, each a replica of his father, seven-year-old Johnny so outgoing and charming, a quick, bright smile, dancing brown eyes. He usually got his way about things because he knew how to use those eyes…just like his father. Alex, now three, was dark, and she’d let his hair grow to his shoulders because it just seemed right. His green eyes stabbed at her heart, for in those eyes she saw the only man who had truly made her feel like a whole woman. He was the daring one, with a wild, free spirit that made him adventurous, the kind of child who had to be watched constantly or he might get hurt. He was always playing around horses, had absolutely no fear of them whatsoever. She remembered how adeptly Gabe could ride a horse, how easily he worked with them, as though one in spirit with them.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the picnic and dance?” Faith asked Maude. “We can take the children.”
“Oh, no, dear. You know zis little one here,” she answered. “He would be into everzing. You should not have to worry ’bout zem. Me, I get tiret at places where der are so many people. I like just to relax here. I watch za children for you. You be free to have fun—maybe dance vit some men, huh? You got to find you a man, Faith. You are too beautiful to go on alone. Za boys, zey need a papa. You think about zat Harding fella. He got money and he goodlooking. Everbody knows he has an eye for you.”
Faith smiled and shook her head. How could she explain to anyone else her suspicions about the charming, dapper Tod Harding, who was so sociable and who had contributed so much to the town? “Thanks for watching the boys,” she answered. She walked out to the carriage to which she had already hitched a horse, and she climbed in, taking up the reins and heading the horse toward the other end of town, where a warehouse that Tod Harding had built would now be used for the spring dance. Women would bring food, and Faith had already taken over three pies earlier in the day. She could hear music as she drew closer, provided by a few men in town who were reasonably adept with fiddle and guitar. Bret had shipped over the piano from her saloon, and the old man who played for her would lend his talents to more music for the dance.
She pulled the carriage to a hitching post, and Buck came out to greet her. “I’ll take care of your horse and carriage, ma’am,” he told her. “I agreed to look after everybody’s animals.” He came around to help her down. “Say, now, ain’t you the pertiest woman here!”
Faith blushed a little. “Thank you, Buck.” She squeezed his hand. “What would I have done all these years without you?” She looked him over. He wore a suit, nothing fancy, just Buck’s best attempt at dressing up. “And don’t you look nice yourself!”
The man chuckled. “Can’t wait to get out of these duds.”
Faith laughed in return. “Well, you be sure to come inside and get all you want to eat. And I insist on a dance, Buck Jones.” She leaned closer. “I’ll bet Miss Bellings wouldn’t mind a dance or two herself. She has an eye for you, Buck.”
He waved her off, looking embarrassed. “Don’t you be tryin’ to get me together with that teacher. I got me a feelin’ she’s a single-minded woman who’d have a leash around my neck in no time.”
“You like her and you know it.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Well, maybe I’ll go over and say hello.”
Faith heard a woman’s voice then, someone singing a lovely tune with a voice that floated on the evening breeze. “Sounds like Bret is entertaining everyone,” she told Buck.
“Yeah, she’s been singin’ off and on between square dances. You’d best get inside. Everybody is waitin’ for Mayor Beaumont to arrive.”
Faith sighed, thinking how perfect everything would be now if only she knew where Gabe was, if he was dead or alive. “Well, then, I suppose I had better get in there.”
Buck grasped her arm. “Harding is waitin’, too. He asked earlier about you. He’s all spiffied up, expectin’ some dances, I reckon.”
Faith rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m sure he is.”
“I gotta tell ya, he’s got somebody with him, somebody he’s been introducin’ around to everyone, spreadin’ the word that it’s time Sommers Station got itself a sheriff, built a jail, made sure we’ve got law and order here on account of we’re growin’ so fast.”
Faith frowned. “Well, that’s true. I’ve mentioned it at town meetings. We had planned on bringing someone in for the job sometime this summer.”
“I know that, but…well, ma’am, the man he’s got with him is that Joe Keller, the one who was sheriff in Cheyenne for a while.”
“Yes, ma’am. Apparently him and Harding know each other good. Harding is puttin’ on a big show with him, getting people to agree he’d be the man for the job.”
Faith looked toward the warehouse, feeling deep alarm. “I don’t like Joe Keller, Buck. I don’t trust him or Tod Harding. I never will.”
“Well, Harding is workin’ on the crowd good. He’s already got people all fired up, and Keller, he’s puttin’ on a good show himself. Harding is sayin’ as how he has to leave so often to tend his other businesses and go to company meetin’s and such, on account of his pa died and he’s taken over everything, he wants to be sure his businesses here in Sommers Station is safe and protected when he’s gone. Now that he’s opened that bank, he says it’s more important than ever to have a sheriff to watch over things. He’s got folks convinced it ought to be Keller, on account of he’s got experience. Him bein’ sheriff in Cheyenne for a while, that’s got folks impressed.”
Faith sighed with frustration. “And any argument I try to present would make me look silly. I have no proof those two had anything to do with Gabe’s disappearance. To bring up such a thing would only make people think I was losing my mind.” She met Buck’s eyes. “I don’t like this, Buck. Harding seems to be trying to take over this town, impressing people with his wealth, all his businesses, opening that bank. Now he’s bringing his puppet sheriff to Sommers Station, and he’s got people looking up to him more and more. I feel as if I’m losing control, and I think that’s just what he wants. Maybe it’s been his plan all along.”
“Well, you just remember that everybody in town loves you and supports you. You stick to your guns and don’t let Harding get the upper hand. If we have to accept Keller as our sheriff, so be it; but everything we do here has to be voted on, so if Keller don’t do a good job and people don’t like him, he can be voted out.”
“Well! It’s about time you got here!”
Their conversation was interrupted by Tod Harding himself, who approached Faith, Joe Keller walking behind him.
“My, my, look at you!” Harding said, his eyes raking her almost hungrily. “Such wasted beauty. It’s time for you to dance and be happy and enjoy yourself, Faith Beaumont. And I want every dance!”
Faith did not even look at him. Her eyes were on Joe Keller, and all her distrust was awakened. He was not a big man, but he had two six-guns strapped on, and his pockmarked face had a hard look, his dark eyes seeming to drill right into her. He drew his fingers across a thin mustache and nodded to her, a smile beginning to show, but not a friendly one. Faith saw it more as a smile of victory, and she could not help thinking the victory was that he knew what had happened to Gabe Beaumont.
“What is Joe Keller doing here?” she asked, finally meeting Tod’s eyes.
“Joe? Well, Mayor Beaumont, you know Sommers Station needs a sheriff. Keller’s got experience, and I know him personally, so I can vouch that he would do an excellent job.” He moved an arm around her waist in a familiar gesture Faith resented. “Don’t be so resentful, Faith. That little incident back in Cheyenne—heavens, that was years ago. Joe is sorry about that, aren’t you, Joe?”
Keller looked her over rather scathingly. “Sure,” he answered.
You know! she thought. You know what happened to my husband. She pulled away from Harding, facing him. “He is not sorry for anything. I probably can’t stop you from convincing people this is the best man for the job, but he had better be fair and honest and cooperative, or he can be voted out just as easily as he’s voted in. You know how I feel about Joe Keller, yet you’ve brought him to Sommers Station. Don’t expect any dances today, Mr. Harding.”
She turned and headed for the warehouse, putting on a smile for the first people who greeted her. Harding and Keller glanced at Buck, neither one of them caring for the way Buck looked back at them, a strange, knowing look in his eyes. “Tend the horses and mind your own business, old man,” Harding told him. “And if you’re such good friends with Faith Beaumont, why don’t you try to reason with the woman? Sommers Station needs a sheriff, and Keller here will do a good job. As far as hope that that cheating half-breed she married is ever coming back to her, help her see that’s never going to happen.”
Buck folded his arms. “Oh? And how would you know that?”
Harding rolled his eyes. “It’s just common sense. What’s it been? Four years since he disappeared? Open your eyes and hers. She’s much too good a woman to waste herself like she’s doing.”
Buck looked him over. Like Faith, he felt this man knew something, and so, too, did Joe Keller, he was sure. “If Faith Beaumont was my own daughter, I couldn’t care more for her, Harding. You better never hurt her, else you’ll answer to me.”
Harding just snickered. “And you would in turn answer to Joe Keller.” He turned and went after Faith.
Keller looked Buck over threateningly before also going to rejoin the good citizens of Sommers Station. This place is going to be a piece of cake, he thought. The people were innocent and eager, proud of their town, excited to have a new sheriff. Once Harding was through with them, Keller would easily be voted in, and then he would hire deputies—men he knew well, men who were good with the gun. In no time at all he would own this town, and Tod Harding would own Faith Beaumont.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Gabe faced Judge Isaac Parker squarely, hating the thought of how he must look—thin, unclean, his hair grown nearly to his waist. Prisoners were allowed one shave a week, and his had been four days ago. He wore the striped uniform of all other prisoners, allowed to change, too, only once a week.
The chance he had wanted was finally here, but it was doubtful he could take hope in the fact that a new judge had been appointed to rule Indian Territory. Already they were calling this man the “hanging judge.” He did not hesitate to order hangings when they were recommended, and sometimes even when they weren’t recommended. He had weaned out several prisoners who had still been incarcerated when he’d arrived, freeing some, hanging others. Gabe’s turn had come to stand before the man, and because his original papers supposedly had recommended he be hanged, there was little doubt what the judge would decide—but Gabe would damn well have his say first. Judge Parker, a rather round man with a mustache and goatee and very discerning eyes, asked him to state his name.
“Gabriel Beaumont, Your Honor.”
“You look Indian.”
“I am half-Sioux. My Indian name is Tall Bear.”
The judge nodded. He took a long, hard look at Gabe, pulling at his goatee. “I have to tell you, Mr. Beaumont, that I can find no papers on you.”
A glimmer of hope beamed through Gabe’s heart. “If I may have the privilege, sir, I believe I know why.”
Parker’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity. “You speak good English. I am catching a tiny hint of an accent. French?”
“Yes, sir. My father was French. He was a trapper in the Upper Missouri country.”
The judge nodded. “So what is your explanation as to why I can find no papers on you? What were you accused of?”
“I was accused of a murder I did not commit and was sent here without trial, Your Honor. The man who claims he saw me kill the victim has never shown his face, never come forward publicly to accuse me. I was never even told his name.”
“Then how did you end up here?” Parker asked with a frown.
Gabe explained how he’d been falsely arrested and sent to prison with no trial, explained about the beating and gunshot wound and never even being able to tell his wife what had happened. He mentioned no names. He had his own plans for the men who had put him there!
“I was brought here by two men who claimed they were bounty hunters, Your Honor, whose names I never was told, yet there was no bounty on me. The judge who was here then had me thrown in prison without a trial. The bounty hunters told me I was to be hanged, but I have instead spent the last—” He thought a
moment. “Excuse me, sir, but what year is this?”
He heard a chuckle from someone in the room, and Parker pounded his gavel. “This is not a laughing matter! This man has been imprisoned without trial and with no legal papers to keep him here! It is a sad situation that he is not even sure how long he has been here!” The room quieted again, and Parker looked at Gabe. “It is August, eighteen and seventy-two, Mr. Beaumont.”
Gabe closed his eyes. Four years! What must Faith be thinking by now? What had she told Johnny? Maybe by now she had given up on him and married someone else, thinking he was dead or never returning. “I was sent here in sixty-eight, sir,” he answered.
Parker leaned back in his chair, pulling at his goatee again. “I am confused, Mr. Beaumont. Who sent you here? The army? The man who accused you? The sheriff of Cheyenne? Who paid the bounty hunters if there was no bounty on you?”
Gabe ran a hand through his hair. “I do not know who paid the bounty hunters.” He knew damn well it was Tod Harding, but he was still determined not to reveal the man’s name. “I only know there was a wealthy man in Cheyenne at the time who was good friends with the sheriff, and who—” He struggled against the rage he felt at the thought of Tod Harding touching Faith. “He was interested in my wife, sir.”
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