The Darkest Blue

by Hildie McQueen

  Uncle. The ground seemed to tilt. Why had no one told him the Coles were related to the Dawsons? “Maybe Dawson found out something about Ashley he did not want known.”

  Hank Cole lowered his gaze just long enough to hide whatever he thought and Ford cursed inwardly. When the man lifted his gaze once again, it was piercing. “Only cowards shoot a man in cold blood. It is a man with no backbone that hides behind a façade of chivalry. I think, Captain Ford, that between you and Ashley, you would be the one with the most to hide.”

  This time it was Ford who broke eye contact. A sliver of apprehension went down his back. No one ever won against him, not even this man with all his honor. Ford held his temper in check. “Where is he? If he is innocent, why is he hiding like a coward?”

  Grayson Cole growled. “The one thing my brother can’t be accused of is being a coward.” When he lurched forward, his father grabbed his arm.

  “Go on back where you came from, Ford. We don’t need you to help maintain justice in this town.”

  Ford straightened. “If you insist on wasting our time with words, then I take that as a sign that you are hiding your son. Very well. I will return to town and await the arrival of the U.S. Marshals. It will be proven that your son killed Miles Dawson. Of that, I am sure.”

  “Well, let’s head on into town and see about that.” Hank and Grayson Cole pulled up on either side of Ford, effectively cutting him off from the men that rode with him. Ford looked to them only to find they’d fallen behind the Coles in a solid wall of respect for the rancher.

  Bile rose in his throat and Ford pushed it down. He’d miscalculated. It was possible he’d made a huge mistake by shooting Dawson and it was time to cut his losses and leave Alder Gulch. He spurred his horse toward town. He’d not go to the jailhouse or the doctor’s place. He would, instead, go directly home and instruct Charles to prepare everything just in case.

  Maybe he’d go somewhere near and bide his time. If he didn’t leave town at once, it could be him on the end of the rope.

  Once he arrived in town, he found it curiously quiet. Only a few people about. A woman walked from the seamstress shop to a wagon and waved at another with a wide smile. A sole man stood outside the town’s hotel and looked at his pocket watch.

  Ford neared the man who smiled up at him. “It’s a damn shame someone shot the sheriff.”

  The man looked up and frowned, the sunlight in his face. “Yes it is. Now we just have to wait to see if he’ll recover fully.”

  The ground shifted under him. The bastard lived.

  The others arrived in town. He saw their silhouettes through the hazy twilight of the setting sun. Ford turned his horse toward his house biting back the urge to break into a full gallop and attract them to chase.

  He hurried into the house and called for Charles, his driver, who came running. “Pack up everything. I will send a telegram telling you where to meet me. It will be from your Aunt Martha.”

  Charles nodded, the ever-obedient dog. “Yes, sir. What about the maid? Am I allowed to have her?”

  “No, don’t touch her. Send her away tomorrow. Give her enough money so she keeps her mouth shut once we leave. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” The man actually pouted.

  Ford grabbed his rifle and saddlebags that were already packed with a change of clothing, money and plenty of ammunition. “See you in a few days.”

  He exited out the back of the house and climbed onto the saddle. With one last look at Alder Gulch, he galloped away.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Grace’s head bobbed to the side hard. The motion woke her and she noticed the weak rays of sunshine peeking through the small window in the clinic’s back room. She lurched to her feet and rushed to her father’s bedside.

  Although he remained pale, her father breathed regularly, his eyes darting to her face when she leaned over him to kiss his cheek. “How are you feeling?” She whispered so not to wake her mother who lay on a cot next to the wall. “You scared us, Papa.”

  He swallowed and grimaced when attempting to lift his hand to her. She reached for it. “One small step at a time, Papa.”

  “It was Ford who shot me.”

  The words echoed in the room and Grace’s breath hitched. “Why?”

  The doctor rushed into the room, his clothing rumpled from having slept in the adjacent front room. “So he’s awake.” He neared the bed and placed his hand on her father’s forehead and then listened to his heart with the stethoscope. “It will be a few weeks before you can attempt to work, but I am confident you will recover, Miles.” Doctor Dougherty clasped his friend’s shoulder, relief evident on his face. “I figured you were too stubborn to die on me just yet.”

  “Feels like death dragged me halfway down,” her father replied, his voice hoarse. “I need a drink of water, please.”

  Grace fetched her father a drink and watched the doctor help him drink. “Doctor Dougherty, did you hear who my father said shot him?”

  “Yes. And that will take care of itself when the time comes. Right now, I have to sedate him and allow him to get plenty of rest. Tomorrow, you can get some folks to help him move back to your house.” He proceeded to give her father a shot.

  “How long has he been awake?” Her mother neared the bed and studied her husband’s face. “Miles, you’re going to be all right. Thank God.” She pressed a kiss to his jaw.

  “Not long,” the doctor replied putting his syringe and other items away. “Grace, why don’t you come up front with me? Mrs. Dawson, don’t let him overexert himself. He’ll fall asleep in a couple minutes. More than anything, he needs to remain calm and rest right now.”

  Once in the front room, the doctor led her out to the front porch. It was a brisk morning, the sun bright. She inhaled the fresh air and waited for the doctor to speak.

  “Hank and Grayson Cole, along with several ranch hands from the Cole ranch are here in town. They rode in last night after meeting up with Ford and his posse.”

  Grace looked toward Mitch’s house. “I need to talk to them, tell them what my father said. There’s no telling where Erwin is right now. He could be getting away. Did you see Ashley?”

  “No I did not, but he could have headed straight to Mitch’s house. I’ll look after your father if you want to head over to the house. I assume that’s where they spent the night.”

  They stopped talking at spotting a horseman galloping full speed into town. Bronson Cole, Grayson’s twin, was filthy, covered in dirt and grime. The only recognizable factors were his vibrant, blue eyes. He rode to the jailhouse and dismounted. Grace headed towards him only to see that Grayson and Hank Cole, along with Mitch Banks and Josiah McClintock, exited the large, white house Mitch lived in and also went toward Bronson. Good. She could inform all of them at the same time of what her father said.

  Grayson saw her first and turned to her. Despite the circumstances, it was impossible to ignore how handsome the man was. With breathtaking features, intense, blue eyes and long, burnished hair, he was one of a kind. She lifted a hand in his direction motioning for them to come closer.

  The men neared, except for Bronson who stayed a few steps behind. He looked as if he’d spent long days on the road. It was probably best he remain at a distance. She looked to Hank. “My father came to just a little bit ago and identified who shot him.”

  “Who?” Hank Cole’s deep voice was even.

  “He said it was Ford. But he didn’t say anything else.”

  “How is he?” Grayson asked, looking past her to the clinic.

  “Doc says he’ll recover, but he’s still weak.”

  “Where’s Ash?” It was Bronson who spoke.

  “At my house. Ford shot him, too, in the arm,” Grayson told his twin and walked to his brother.

  Grace wanted to ask more questions, but by the relaxed way in which Grayson said it, she knew Ashley was not hurt too bad.

  Bronson and Grayson spoke in low tones while Hank talked to Mitch. �
��We need to find Ford.”

  “He’s dangerous. I have a feeling he’s probably guilty of much more than trying to kill my father and shooting Ashley.” Grace placed her hands on her hips. “We don’t need anyone trying to be a hero. We should wait for the U.S. Marshals to arrive and let them take care of it.”

  “You’re right, Grace, but we will ride over to his house. He’s probably long gone by now, but just in case, it’s best to keep him holed up so he doesn’t try to hurt anyone else,” Hank Cole replied.

  Grace went to Grayson. “Is Ashley all right? Why isn’t he here with you all?”

  “Nora insisted he stay so she could nurse his arm,” Grayson replied and then reassured her quickly. “He’s fine. The bastard shot him in the right arm. Sorry,” he added quickly for cussing. “If I know Ash, he’ll be here shortly.”

  Just then, Doctor Dougherty came outside and joined them. “Miles is resting. He won’t be able to say much for a while. But I overheard him tell Grace that Ford shot him. I’ll send a telegram and ask for Marshals to come see about this situation with Ford.”

  “There’s no need.” Bronson spoke up and everyone turned to him. “The U.S. Cavalry is heading this way behind me. If he’s leaving town from his house, they will catch him. The captain is wanted, both by the cavalry and by the law. Besides a soldier named Smith, he killed another man in Kansas City. Seems the man he killed had sent a telegram to the cavalry informing them Ford ordered him to shoot Smith.”

  “Oh goodness.” Grace flattened her hand on her chest at the thought that she’d almost married him. Been alone with him on several occasions.

  Hank placed his hand on Bronson’s broad shoulder. “Go on to Mitch’s place, get washed up and change before going to see your Ma. She’s worried sick about you, but I doubt she’ll let you near her right now.” Despite Bronson’s appearance, Hank hugged his son and kissed his temple. “Go on, son, get some rest.”

  “Where did he go?” Grace asked Grayson who watched his twin walk away.

  “That’s something between him and Ashley. I suspect, but don’t know for sure.”

  Hank Cole looked to Josiah. “Stay at the clinic and keep an eye on the sheriff and his family. If you see Ford, shoot him.”

  Josiah nodded, his face grim. “No problem with that.”

  The men dispersed and Grace returned to the clinic. She’d check on her father then go home to change clothes. Josiah’s presence reassured her, but she’d not feel completely at ease until Ford was apprehended.

  It strengthened her to see the men coming together to ensure she and her family were taken care of.

  Taking charge was familiar to her, the way the Coles took care of family was nothing new and it brought to her attention that it was time for her to also be stronger. Perhaps it was time for her to take her future into her own hands.

  Chapter Eighteen

  One week later.

  Bronson walked into Ashley’s cabin and turned in a full circle. “You plan to furnish it? There are no chairs. Where am I supposed to sit?”

  The one chair in the room held a stack of his clothes. Ashley motioned toward the door. “How bout we go outside and sit on the porch?”

  “Nah,” Bronson replied and walked to the back where the bedroom was. The only room he’d furnished so far. “Hey, this is nice. It makes me want to start building my own house.” His brother returned with a chair in hand, which meant he’d placed his other things either on the floor or on the bed.

  “Want some coffee?” Ashley offered and went into the kitchen.

  “You got mugs?”

  “Yeah, Ma made sure I had a couple mugs and other utensils for cooking. I plan to make my own furniture, but it’s going to take time.”

  “Hmmm,” Bronson watched him for a few moments. “You planning to talk to Grace?”

  “Nope.”

  “So that’s it. You ain’t even gonna try to see if maybe things could work out between you two?” Bronson’s scowl did not bother him as much as being reminded of Grace.

  He changed the subject. “Josiah still watchin’ over her and the family?”

  “Yes, he and another couple men from town are taking turns keeping guard.” Bronson, ever clever, turned the conversation back around. “So you don’t want to share this place with Grace?”

  “I can’t. You know what it’s like to live with me.”

  “The night terrors still bothering you?” His brother accepted the coffee and drank it. “I mean even after finding out the cavalry has cleared you of any wrong doings?”

  It didn’t matter that the nightmares had been less frequent. The possibility was still there, too many demons to clear out before he could hope for any kind of normal life. “Bronson, let it go.”

  “So you’re hunkering down for the winter?” Thankfully, Bronson dropped the subject. “Besides checking on the animals in the barn, it’s always such a slow time. Makes me restless. I couldn’t be alone with nothing to do.”

  “Yeah. I know what you mean.” Ashley looked to the corner where his guitar was propped against the wall. “It’ll give me time to work on making some chairs and a table.”

  “I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to spend so much time alone. Ma said to tell you she expects you at dinner regularly.”

  A smile played at his lips. “I know she does and I will be there. Don’t know enough about cookin’ to stay alive.”

  They both laughed and Bronson stood. “I better get going. Thanks for the coffee.” He placed the cup down then frowned when Ashley neared. “What’s the matter?”

  “I’m not sure I thanked you properly for what you did for me. I appreciate you riding so far and hard to bring me the news. You’re a good brother.”

  “Yes I am,” Bronson agreed and punched Ashley’s uninjured shoulder. “Don’t forget it, either.”

  “I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me, Bronson. I didn’t expect to share so much with you. I feel as if I’ve burdened you with it all.” Ashley went to turn away but his brother stopped him, Bronson’s hand on his forearm.

  “Ash. We’re family and that means we carry each other’s burdens.” Bronson sighed. “You should tell Pa and Ma about it, too. They still don’t understand why I had to go to Fort Laramie.”

  “I will.”

  “Hey,” Bronson said, his eyes bright. “I want to tell you about someone I met. I can’t stop thinking that maybe I need to go see about…her.”

  Ashley waited. Bronson had never spoken of women, not even when a teenager. Unlike Grayson who made a name for himself as the town’s rake before marrying Nora, Bronson kept to himself.

  “Her?” Ashley sat in the chair Bronson had vacated since his brother now paced.

  “Laura. Her name is Laura.” His brother leaned against the wall and dug his hands into his pockets.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ellie Smith opened the door of her tiny shack to find a man with a box and a case standing on her stoop. She looked over her shoulder to ensure her four year old remained at a safe distance. “What can I do for you, sir?”

  “Are you Ellie Smith, wife of the deceased Private David Smith?” He looked down at the paper he extracted from the briefcase and then up to her expectedly.

  “Yes, sir. I am.” She wondered if he’d come to evict her. She’d paid all she had to the landlady, but the woman was a mean one, wouldn’t hesitate to throw her and her son out in the middle of winter. Her hand trembled on the doorknob, but she waited to see what the man would say.

  “Ma’am, this is for you.” He held out a small box and an envelope. “Mr. Charles Roberts died. He served with your husband in the cavalry, you see.”

  She didn’t understand, but not wanting to appear rude, she nodded. He seemed to accept it as a reply and continued. “For whatever his reasons, Mr. Roberts left all his money to you, Mrs. Smith. Unfortunately, a lot of it is missing, but there is still a good amount here in gold and a check that can be deposited at the bank.”

/>   Ellie took the check and looked at it. The amount was more than she’d ever seen. Her eyes widened. “Are you sure it’s all for me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The man smiled. “Mr. Roberts was very explicit and we’ve investigated it fully to ensure it’s yours.”

  “Oh.” She couldn’t think what to say.

  “Well, you have a good day, Mrs. Smith. If the rest of the money is recovered, I’ll be in touch. Otherwise, if you need anything, contact me. Harvey Farlow. I live in town.” The man turned on his heel and went to his coach.

  Ellie turned to her son, tears pouring down her cheeks. “Look baby, your daddy is looking after us from Heaven.”

  *****

  Once again, her threads became tangled. Grace tossed the cloth back into her sewing basket with more force than she intended. It was no use trying to concentrate on the whimsical pattern of butterflies and flowers, not when her mind kept going back to her last time with Ashley. His kisses told things he refused to admit out loud. She knew he cared for her. He didn’t need to say it. Since the day her father was shot, she’d not seen him. The cavalry arrived the day prior and gathered up groups of men to go in search of Erwin Ford. No doubt the man was long gone. She shuddered to think what havoc he’d bring with him to another group of unsuspecting people.

  “Grace?” Her mother stood at the doorway. “Will you go to the mercantile and pick up some sundry items? We’re all out of sugar, flour and coffee. I need to stay and keep an eye on your father.”

  “Yes, of course.” She stood and went to her mother. Grace embraced her and kissed her cheek. “I love you.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart.” Her mother blinked away tears. “I just can’t get over the fact I pushed you to marry that horrible man.”

  “Let’s not speak of it anymore. He fooled a lot of people. It’s what men like him do.”

  Grace pulled her coat tight around her in an effort to stay warm as she walked out. Ever present and a comfort, Josiah, who’d been in the kitchen drinking coffee, walked out alongside her.