Amy had a good head on her shoulders. Had Pearl rubbed off on her? “You did the right thing, leaving the others at home.”
“Actually, I didn’t.” Amy looked chagrined. “I sent Daisy and Mary over to Flaherty’s Ranch.”
“That’s only because Mary’s sweet on Mick.” The muffled voice came from the back of the wagon.
Amy’s mouth twitched as she fought not to smile, “You can come on out now, Nellie.”
The youngest of Pearl’s girls tossed aside the tattered tarp she’d been hiding under and brushed her hair out of her eyes. “It was getting hot under there.”
Her gasp of shock was expected. Davidson had felt the same way when Pearl whirled around to face him. “We need to get Pearl back to the ranch so we can see just how badly the bullet—”
“She’s been shot?” Nellie’s eyes filled with tears, but Amy took her hand and pulled her down onto the seat beside her, holding her close.
“I thought—that is—” Sniffling back her own tears, Amy shook her head. “We’ll follow along behind you.”
Smythe admired the young woman’s courage. She’d done what she had to do. She’d sent for help and didn’t leave the youngest home alone to fend for herself, not knowing what had happened to their surrogate mother.
He’d just set Pearl on her feet by the back door when the pounding of horses’ hooves thundered up the road coming toward the house. He shoved Pearl behind him and whirled around, ready to protect her from whatever new threat rode toward them.
“Smythe!” Reilly yelled.
“What happened?” Mick demanded at the same time.
“Is it bad?” Daisy asked from where she sat astride Pearl’s big plow horse, behind Mary.
“He doesn’t know,” Pearl answered again. “I haven’t had a chance to tell anyone. They’re too busy worrying about me.”
Reilly dismounted, ground-staked his horse, and strode over to where the two stood on the bottom porch step. “God in heaven, what happened to ye, lass?”
Pearl’s eyes filled with tears.
Smythe could tell she wouldn’t hold out much longer before she broke down. “Let’s get her inside before she keels over.”
Sensing Pearl needed to appear strong in front of her girls, he put his arm around her, mindful of her still-healing ribs, and led her inside.
Smythe could hear Reilly giving instructions. At least their horses would all be fed and watered. When the big Irishman finally stepped into the kitchen, Smythe asked, “Why didn’t Mrs. Flaherty come with the girls?”
Reilly shook his head. “She’s feelin’ a bit peaked.”
“I guess she’s not as strong as Pearl.” Smythe wondered if many women would be.
“She’s carryin’.”
“Carrying?” What did that mean?
Reilly’s grin was swift. “Aye, she’ll be adding to Flaherty’s family come late winter.”
“That’s wonderful news.” Pearl sounded as if she were rousing a bit. Smythe had started to worry that she’d retreat within herself, as sometimes happens when one loses a lot of blood or suffers a severe emotional shock.
“It will be a blessin’,” Reilly said softly, coming to a stop in front of Pearl’s chair. Squatting in front of her, he took her hands in his and held them carefully. A curl of jealousy flickered to life and swirled within Smythe as he watched the other man offering what he should be giving. Comfort.
Who was he kidding? He’d only just met the woman yesterday, and she sure as hell hadn’t encouraged him to get close to her then. Had she?
The banging of a pot jarred Smythe from his ruminations. Mary and Daisy argued quietly, jostling the pot of water they were heating between them. He looked around him. Nellie busily cut strips from a worn sheet while Amy washed her hands with strong-smelling lye soap in a battered enameled bowl. Wiping them carefully, Amy walked over and placed a hand on Reilly’s shoulder.
The man jolted and turned to face her. Smythe knew in that moment that Reilly more than cared for Pearl. The count was now up to at least three of them vying for the woman’s affections.
“Damnation,” Smythe mumbled.
Reilly’s gaze narrowed, understanding flared, then he nodded. “Aye. Ye’ve the right of it, Smythe.” He stood and walked over to where Smythe stood in the doorway. “I mean to find out who did this and—”
Glancing around the room, Smythe knew now was not the time to plan their strategy with the girls listening. Smythe cut him off, “Later.”
The other man nodded. “Count on it.”
Oddly, Smythe did.
Pearl sat perfectly still while Amy washed the dried blood and dirt from her face. It had to hurt, but she never complained. Once it was clean, they discovered the wound wasn’t as deep as Smythe had feared. It was still jagged and angry looking, but he didn’t worry whether or not it would leave a scar. It would, but that fact didn’t matter to him one bit. He still thought she was the loveliest woman he’d ever laid eyes on.
“How do you feel?”
Pearl roused enough to answer. “Tired.”
“You need to rest. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”
Smythe looked out the window and was surprised not to see Mick. “Did he go back to the ranch?”
“Who?” Amy paused, about to pour a cup of tea for Pearl.
“Mick.” Smythe hadn’t seen the boy leave.
“I sent him into town to fetch the doc,” Daisy answered, looking over her shoulder, her arms filled with bloodied rags.
“They’ll be here soon,” Mary added, sweeping the pile of unused strips of linen from the table and into her arms.
The girls bustled around them, and he realized they were a team. No, he amended, they were a family, a family that pulled together in hard times.
Nellie walked over to Smythe and placed a hand on his arm. “Mr. Smythe, I think you and Reilly may want a bit of the Irish Pearl saves for special occasions.”
Amy grinned. “I think that’s just what Pearl needs in her tea.”
Nellie carried the bottle over and poured a few drops in Pearl’s tea, then poured the clear amber liquid into the two glasses Daisy had set out on the table.
“Thank you, girls.”
“No need to thank us. You and Mr. Reilly look as if you really need it.” Mary’s comment hit Smythe right between the eyes. He looked at Reilly, who nodded. It would be a long time before either of them would forget the sight of Pearl’s lovely cheek raw and bleeding.
He sipped the smooth whiskey, set his glass back down, and looked at Pearl. “Why don’t you tell us what happened.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Justiss!”
The marshal had heard the rider approaching, but wasn’t worried about protecting his back; his horse would have let him know if there was danger. They had been a team a long time, he and Red.
Since the horse remained calm, he figured Red recognized the voice and probably the horse, too. His gut reaction hadn’t failed him.
“Reilly?”
“Ye best be finished huntin’ for yer rustlers. There’s trouble at home.”
Justiss clamped down on the reaction screaming through him. He could tell by the look on the ranch hand’s face that it had to do with the woman they both cared for.
Out of habit, he reached for his Colt .45 and double-checked that all the chambers were loaded. Shoving the gun back in his holster, he nodded to the Irishman. “Let’s ride. You can fill me in on the way.”
The ride back to town was punishing, listening to Reilly’s telling of the tale, but Justiss sensed there was more the Irishman wasn’t saying. Something else bothered Reilly, and until Justiss saw for himself that Pearl was all right, he wouldn’t rest.
Though it was full dark, the house was ablaze with lamplight. Justiss’s gut clenched. Was the gunman still at large? Without either man having to voice his intention, he and Reilly rode around the perimeter twice to ensure the safety of the women at the ranch.
Everything
that had happened in the last day and a half tied directly to the arrival of one Davidson Smythe. Justiss would bet his last dollar that the easterner had something to do with the trouble currently closing in around Pearl.
Justiss had one last wire he’d been waiting for. The one that would confirm Smythe’s financial status. He’d wondered if the man had lied about using his last dollar to purchase Pearl’s land. Well, he’d not wonder long. The wire should be waiting for him at the mercantile.
Satisfied that they’d secured the ranch, Justiss rode up to the back door, dismounted, and wasn’t surprised to see the back door open and young Mick O’Toole hurry outside.
“I’ll take care of your horse, Marshal.”
“Much obliged.” And he was. Otherwise it would be another quarter of an hour before he could see Pearl and find out what had happened. Knowing his horse would be rubbed down, fed, and watered, he took the porch steps two at a time.
“Marshal!”
Amy’s shriek of surprise told him more than the young woman would guess. She was scared. Badly. Whatever happened earlier that day was not good.
“I…you surprised me.”
“I’m sorry, Amy. Where is Pearl?”
Her eyes filled with tears. Sonofabitch. What had happened while he was chasing down rustlers?
“Amy?”
“In the parlor. She didn’t want to go upstairs—it’s too dark.”
It wasn’t like Pearl Lloyd to fear the dark. Whatever occurred earlier that day had put the fear of God into the woman. He would see to it that whoever had threatened her would know that same fear.
Hat in hand, he entered the parlor and stopped dead in his tracks. The gouge on her cheekbone was jagged and could only have been caused by a bullet.
“Pearl?” He couldn’t seem to find the words to assure her he would do everything in his power to find out who’d shot at her and bring the man to justice.
Justice? Hah! He’d kill the man long before worrying about whether or not justice would be served. No one attacked his friends. No one.
“Ben.” Her voice sounded weak.
“She’s lost a lot of blood.”
His head whipped around, and he narrowed his eyes at the man sitting in a chair next to the sofa. He hadn’t noticed him; all his attention had been concentrated on Pearl. “Smythe. I didn’t know you were here.”
“It’s all right, Ben. I asked that he and Mick stay until Reilly brought you back.”
“You sent for me?” He didn’t know what to make of that. Earlier today, she’d told him she only wanted his friendship, and he didn’t figure he’d be seeing her any time soon.
“You’re still the marshal.”
Ah. Well, that said it all in a nutshell. He sure as hell was still the law around these parts. And he’d start by demanding to know what Smythe had been doing while Pearl was getting herself shot.
Before he could ask, Smythe got to his feet and brushed his hands on thighs. “I’ll just take a walk outside.”
The look in the man’s eyes said that he’d be doing more than walking. With a nod, Justiss sat in the chair the man vacated.
“How do you feel?”
Pearl’s snort of disbelief surprised him. “How do you think I feel?”
Justiss studied her face. She was going to have a scar. “Like hell?”
She agreed. “My face feels like someone took a hot branding iron to it.”
“I take it Doc was here and cleaned it out good?”
Pearl found her first smile. “He said the girls did a right good job of cleaning it out. He only had to use a little carbolic acid on it.”
“Did the smell make you sick?” It had done as much to him the last time he’d needed a bullet wound cleaned out. That plug had been deep in his shoulder. Justiss winced, thinking about the awful smell, although it did keep the chance of infection down. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
An hour later he and Smythe left, after giving instructions to Mick and the girls. Reilly had already gone back to the ranch to enlist the aid of three of Flaherty’s ranch hands to keep watch over Pearl and her girls tonight. Knowing they’d return before he and Smythe were a mile away, they reluctantly rode back to town. The silence wasn’t easy; tension was so thick you could slice it with a knife.
“Tell me again why you didn’t want me to stay with Pearl and the girls?”
Justiss looked at him in the pale moonlight, grateful for the half moon. It would be nearly impossible to ride back to town tonight without it. “I’m waiting for a wire.”
“And you needed me to ride with you back to town to fetch it?”
The disbelief in Smythe’s voice actually soothed the unease roiling inside the marshal. “I’m not ready to trust you alone with Pearl.”
Smythe let go a string of curses, ending with a few that Justiss hadn’t heard before, prompting him to comment, “You’ve spent time on the docks.”
Smythe didn’t bother to answer. “I wouldn’t hurt her, and I sure as hell didn’t shoot at her.”
“Who did?”
“Damned if I know. Why don’t you ask Pearl?”
“I did.”
“What did she say?”
“Pretty much the same as you. She didn’t have any idea who’d want to shoot at her. Up until yesterday, she thought the only thing she’d had to fear was being ostracized any time she rode into town.”
“By whom?”
“The committee.”
After talking with the head of the committee, he’d figured they had been behind the sale of Pearl’s ranch. The do-gooders were trying to run her out of town, just like he’d heard they’d done when they tried to get rid of Bridget and Maggie.
“What do you know that you aren’t telling me?” Justiss demanded, reining in his horse outside of his office.
“I’ll tell you inside.” Though the street behind the boarding house seemed to be deserted, Smythe didn’t want to chance being overheard.
Stalking inside, the marshal tossed his hat on the shelf behind his desk. Rifling through the small stack of papers on his desk, he paused, reading the one on the bottom.
Smythe waited for Justiss to finish reading before he began. When the marshal glanced up, Smythe said, “It seems the committee is behind the sale of Pearl’s ranch to me.”
“I know.”
Dumfounded, Smythe could only stare at the lawman. “Why the hell haven’t you done anything about it?”
“Who says I haven’t?”
“I haven’t heard—”
“And you won’t hear anything. I don’t need everybody in town poking their noses in the law around here. It’d slow me down.”
“Does Pearl know?”
The marshal shook his head. “Not the whole of it. I was waiting until she’d recovered.”
“And now this.”
Their eyes met. Justiss would not be half the lawman Smythe hoped he was if he didn’t see the promise of violence Smythe couldn’t quite suppress.
“You aren’t thinking of taking the law into your hands, are you, Smythe?”
He laughed. “If I was, I sure as hell wouldn’t confide in you, Marshal.”
“Then we’re even.”
“I want to know what you plan to do about this attack.”
Smythe didn’t want to have to threaten a lawman, but he’d do it. He still had connections back home in Boston, powerful ones that reached all the way to the State Senate. Maybe it was time to send a wire to Runyon.
Smythe watched as the other man carefully folded the missive he’d been reading inside his shirt.
“Aren’t you going to tell me what the wire said?”
The marshal snorted. “No.”
“We can hardly be expected to work together if you don’t cooperate, Justiss.”
“Damnation, Smythe. Did someone knock you upside the head?”
Smythe smiled. “Not today.”
“I have no intention of—”
“I think whoever att
acked Pearl today wants more than her land, and I know I can call in some favors and find out just where the railroad is planning to lay more track.”
The marshal pulled off his gloves, tucked them in his back pocket, and sat down, then waved a hand in Smythe’s direction and at the empty chair across the desk from him.
“I sent a wire off to Denver yesterday. But you already know that I’ve confirmed all you’ve told me.”
Smythe nodded as he eased into the empty chair.
“I sent another off to Boston.” Justiss, watched him intently. When Smythe chose to remain silent, the marshal sighed heavily. “I wanted to check on your financial status.”
Smythe’s gut clenched. He knew what was coming.
“Why did you lie about being broke?”
“I didn’t.” He’d be damned before he told the lawman his reasons.
“I’d hate to have to lock you up, especially now that someone is after Pearl.”
Smythe surged out of his chair and smashed his fists on the desk. “Sonofabitch. I don’t owe you or anyone else an explanation!”
“No.” The marshal steepled his fingers and tapped the tips of them together lightly. “But you will tell me, or I’ll put you back behind bars, where you can either rot or die of rat bites.”
Smythe blanched. He hated rodents, and he knew Justiss would follow through with his threats. That was part of the reason he gave in. His gut told him to trust the lawman. God knew, he needed to trust someone.
“My brother was murdered.”
The marshal didn’t move, though his eyebrows disappeared beneath the hair hanging over his forehead. “Go on.”
“Until I can prove he was murdered, and who did it, I refuse to touch a penny of his half of our father’s inheritance.”
“How do I know you didn’t do it?”
Smythe rounded on Justiss. “You don’t.”
The lawman studied him from where he sat, fingers still tapping together. “And if I decide to believe you?”
“Then you know I don’t have any reason to hurt Pearl. Once I prove the truth behind my brother’s death, I could go out and buy another ranch.”
The Irish Westerns Boxed Set Page 54