"The painting, it was off-center. The tablecloth, too."
"We could've brushed by either on our way to the Glen," Moira said.
But Odessa was shaking her head. "No. I mean, right. It could've happened that way. But it's more a sense that someone else has been here. Smell." She lifted her nose and sniffed the air. The others did the same.
"No one but our fragrant brother," Moira teased.
He smiled and reached out as if to grab her and choke her, but Moira ducked, laughing.
"Someone else has been here," Odessa said, staring at Bryce.
"All right. Someone else has been here," he returned. "Not likely that they're coming back, with you home now. Anything missing?"
Odessa turned and rushed to her room. Fearing for her jewelry, Moira rushed to her room as well. Thankfully, all was in place as she left it. She returned to the parlor just as Odessa did, smoothing her hair. "Everything as expected," she said softly.
"Good, good."
"Together we have a small fortune in Mother's jewels," Moira said. "Surely any intruder would've taken them, right?" She reached out to wrap an arm around Odessas waist. "Right?"
"Right," her sister returned, after an odd pause.
Dominic stepped beside Bryce outside. He liked his future brother-in-law immensely. He liked how he treated Odessa, treasured her really. He liked how he interacted with others-always warm, respectful. After these last couple of months, he had never asked Dominic why he chose to fight in the ring. He just accepted it.
"Think it's in her head?" Dominic asked him.
"No. I think someone was here, Nic."
Dominic frowned. "Why?"
Bryce glanced over his shoulder and then up and down the street, as if he could see in the dark. "If anything happens to me and Odessa, get to the authorities in Denver and insist they investigate. You cannot trust anyone here in the Springs. Tell them to begin with the death records at the sanatorium, the DeChants and O'Toole, and see what ties they can make to mine claims among those deceased."
"Mine claims."
"Yes, mine claims."
"I'm not liking the sound of this, Bryce. Is this what led those men to chase Odessa and Helen down?"
"We think so."
Dominic thought on that a moment. "Do I need you here tonight?"
"I don't think so. They won't attack you here in the middle of town."
"This from a consumptive rancher who is about to wed my sister and take her a hundred miles from any town."
Bryce returned his grim look then and swung up into his horse's saddle. "I'll be back in the morning, first thing. Keep one eye open tonight, will you?"
Nic said, "Probably both."
They watched the man arrive at the hotel hidden in the shadows across the street. "You searched every inch of the cottage," Reid said lowly.
"Every inch. I'm telling you, Boss, it isn't in there. Either the woman carries it or it's gone."
"Could they have given it to him?"
Both studied Bryce again, dismounting and leading his horse toward the stables. "Could be."
"We need to determine if the mine is as rich as we suspect. One way or another, we have to find out if McAllan or Odessa knows where the hidden entrance is. And McAllan won't let us near Odessa, so we may as well start with him." Decided now, Reid turned to the shorter man. "Take him outside city limits and determine if he already knows how to find his way into the mine that O'Toole left him. Maybe the old man showed him."
"And then?"
Reid studied Bryce as he rode down the street. "I'd prefer he died far from here, but at some point he must, so our investor may purchase the O'Toole property. Dispose of the body where no one will ever find him. Understood?"
"Understood."
Bryce was halfway down the alley to the stables when he heard the horses, coming fast.
He pulled his horse up short and listened intently. Two, maybe three ... no, there were definitely four.
Acting on instinct, he urged his horse away from the stables and down another alley, and around the corner of the next building, a mercantile. In moments the group reached him, barely discernible in the dark, feigning ease but clearly on the hunt. It was the way they moved, their silhouette that said they were alert, not heading in for the night.
His horse shifted and whinnied as they passed, and Bryce froze. But they rode on by, never pausing, intent on their end goal, whatever it might be.
He waited there for another few minutes, laughing at himself over his paranoia. It was probably nothing. Nothing. If they were after him, they'd be back by now. No, they were just men coming in after a night's foray into Colorado City.
He made a low sound to his horse and stepped forward, intent on a clean bed in a good room.
That was when the first man rounded the bend, filling the alleyway.
Bryce frowned and turned back, just in time to see a club come down upon his head.
Chapter
Z5
Bryce came to; he was slumped over the back of his own horse as the group trotted along the road. It was too dark to make out where they were and Bryce didn't want to alert his captors to the fact that he had regained consciousness. He carefully reached for his gun, but both holsters were empty, his revolvers confiscated. But he knew from the pressure at his belly that the knives remained hidden at his waist.
He tried to judge how far they were from town, but he had no idea how long he had been out. Soon enough, however, the leader signaled the group to pull off the road and into a stand of pinon pines. Bryce eased a hand beneath his shirt and grabbed hold of the small knife.
"Get him down," demanded a man, and shortly thereafter, Bryce was hauled from his horse and deposited roughly to the ground. He heard the sound of a cork and then quickly detected smelling salts as they wafted beneath his nose. It was easy to feign that he had just come to.
He opened his eyes groggily. Four men. All with handkerchiefs about their faces. "What? What do you want?" he groaned.
The leader leaned in and grabbed hold of his hair, forcing his head back. Two others grabbed hold of his arms at the same time. "You're being robbed," sneered the leader. "Search him."
They went through his pockets and then ripped open his shirt, discovering the remaining hidden knife, but not the small blade in his hand. He fingered it, glad for the deep darkness of this night and the short, squat blade of the weapon that allowed it to remain undiscovered. Please, Lord, he prayed, help me find a way out of this.
"Take all I have," he said. "Then let me go."
The man nearest him lifted his hands toward the leader. "Nothing. Nothing but his purse."
"You have my money," Bryce said, fully aware of what these men truly sought, "now leave me be."
"You're in no position to order us about. Do you have it? The map to O'Toole's claim?"
"O'Toole? You mean Sam? I have no idea of what you're talking about."
"Give it up, McAllan. Either you have it or your pretty fiancee does. You better pray we don't have to go after her again." He laughed. "Not that I'd mind." He came closer and yanked Bryce's head back by taking a handful of hair in hand. "Trust me, she wouldn't escape this crew."
Bryce gritted his teeth. "There is no map. No letter. Odessa would have no idea what you're talking about."
The punch came then, from the left, meeting his eye and sending a cascade of light shooting across his head, as if he were witnessing Chinese fireworks. But then, nothing. He could see nothing from that eye. "I don't have it!" he cried.
The men around him laughed. One even patted him on the shoulder. That was when Bryce struck, ramming his knife into the man's kidney and then whirling to slash the other across the face. He laid hold of the man's pistol, but a third man hit him across the cheek with a powerful punch that doubled the pain in his eye, following up with two punches to his ribs. Bryce went down. But as the fourth man came near, he flung his knife and heard the man gasp and falter. Bryce whirled, disappearing into the trees.
"Find him!" shouted the man.
Bryce had no illusions. They meant to kill him.
And then they'd go after Odessa.
The man closed the door at the jailhouse, hat in hand.
Reid rose from behind his desk. "What are you doing here?" he hissed. "You know I don't want you seen with me, and my deputy's due back any moment."
"I know it," the man said, clearly miserable.
"What is it? What happened?"
"I'm sorry, Boss, but he escaped."
"Escaped?" Reid swore under his breath. "How'd one man escape four of you? Four!" He hit his thigh with the palm of his hand and paced away.
"He had a knife hidden on him. Caught us unaware."
"I'll say," Reid said, shaking his head. "How bad? You lose any men?"
"One. Two injured."
Reid ran a hand through his hair and stared out the window, the hint of dawn on the horizon. "Now I'll have to find a way to fix it. Dispose of the body. Take your injured to Denver to seek care. Find a doc who won't ask questions. Understood?"
Garrett walked in then, and paused when he saw the stranger. His eyes shifted back and forth between the sheriff and the man.
"Thanks for your time, Mr. Smith," Reid said smoothly, reaching out to shake the man's hand as if they had just met.
"Any time, Sheriff." He placed his hat on his head, nodded at the deputy, and departed.
"What was that about?" Garrett asked him when the door shut.
"Reporting some shooting up on Mount Hermon."
"Before sunup?"
"Dedicated citizen, I guess. We'll have to check it out tomorrow. What've you got?"
"On my way in, I ran into two drunks hauling in a man who was beaten pretty badly. Found him on the road to Colorado City."
"Who is it?"
"Bryce McAllan."
"Bryce McAllan! What was he doing out at this hour?"
"I don't know," Garrett said. Reid didn't care for how his deputy was looking at him, studying him almost. "We've awakened Doc Ramsey and he's seeing to him now."
"How bad is it?"
Garrett winced. "Pretty bad."
Reid walked to the door and took his hat from the peg. "I best go inform the St. Clairs."
"You prefer I do that, Sheriff?"
Reid paused at the door, back still to his deputy. "Why?"
"You know ..."
"When I want your help, Deputy, I'll ask for it." And with that, he shut the door firmly behind him.
Pounding at the door awakened all three in the quaint cottage on Nevada Avenue.
Odessa sat up and tossed aside her covers, pulled on her housecoat, and went to the door. Dominic, thankfully, was already dressed. She could smell the burned odor of boiling coffee, so he'd been up for a while. Moira emerged from her room too, hair in similar disorder to Odessa's, but Nic was already opening the door.
Sheriff Reid Bannock stood outside, hat in hand. "Mornin'," he said, his eyes lingering over Moira, covering her from head to toe, then shifting to Odessa.
Nic stepped into his line of vision. "Sheriff?"
"I apologize for the early hour, Miss Odessa," the sheriff said somberly, looking over Nic's head. "But last night it appears your beau set off toward Colorado City."
"No, no. Last night he was with us. He left us quite late."
"Yes, that makes sense. I believe it was quite late when this occurred. He must've gotten it into his head to go and get a drink at the saloon and set off down the road."
Odessa glanced at Nic. Surely not. "There must be some mistake. He's not the sort of man to go out drinking. Especially at that hour."
"Maybe he was after something else. All I know is that he was on the road at an hour beyond the realm of respectability."
Odessa could feel her chest tighten, her breath coming in quick pants. She didn't like his tone. "What happened?' Nic cut in.
"What?"
"What happened to Bryce? Quickly, tell us," Nic repeated.
The sheriff stared back into his eyes without blinking. "It appears he was waylaid by highwaymen."
"Highwaymen," Nic said, his brow furrowing in disbelief. "An awful lot of that going around lately, don't you think?"
"We're a prosperous and growing town. We're doing all we can."
"Was he robbed?"
"Appears so. Nothing on him when he arrived." He eyed Odessa again. "He's been beaten. Pretty bad."
"Where'd you take him?"
"Doc Ramsey's. Some drunks found him and hauled him in with them, during the wee hours this morning."
Nic looked at Odessa. "It will be all right, but we need to get to him. Go and get dressed. Moira, you, too."
When Odessa turned to go, she saw Moira had already disappeared into her room. In minutes, they met Nic outside, waiting with the carriage. He helped them into the back. Reid was gone.
There was none of the gaiety that had surrounded the night before, Odessa thought gloomily. By now, Father would have received their telegram, would be making plans to come so he could attend the nuptials. But if he came now, before Bryce was fully healed, if he thought him the sort of man who was foolish enough to head out for Colorado City in the dark of night ... She shuddered. Her father would be furious, and rightly so.
Lost in her own concerns, she barely saw the town as it slid by. Suddenly, they were in front of Doctor Ramsey's, and Nic pulled the carriage horse to a halt. Reid was standing outside the door, one boot against the wall, arms folded across his chest, casually waiting on them. He wants to bear witness to our grim tragedy unfolding, Odessa thought. It brought him pleasure, this. Some sort of justice to assuage the pain rent by Moira.
"Shouldn't you be out be chasing the highwaymen, Sheriff?" Nic asked drily.
"No point. Already long gone, I'd wager."
"I see," Nic said, clearly saying by his tone that he didn't. He walked past the man and opened the door for Odessa and Moira. Reid remained outside.
Inside it smelled of fresh linens and pine, antiseptic potions and ... tea. Odessa was instantly comforted. She had met the good doctor and his wife at the Palmers' home, and thought him both knowledgeable and kindly. The doctor emerged from behind a curtain, with his wife right behind him. Both were in white aprons, making the bloodstain at his waist all the more apparent.
"Miss St. Clair," he said, moving toward her. "You are looking so well, my dear. The sanatorium and Doctor Morton have done a fine job, have they not?"
They nodded at one another in greeting, anxious to get along to news of Bryce. Doctor Ramsey hesitated.
"Please, Doctor," Moira said, wrapping her arm around Odessa's waist, "just tell us what you must."
"He arrived unconscious and was beaten pretty badly." He shook his head in wonder. "He could lose an eye. We won't know for some time if it will heal completely."
He studied them to judge how they were taking it, and then plunged forward. "He has a broken rib, which I've wrapped, and that will heal. But obviously we're most concerned that he regain consciousness. Once that bridge is crossed, we'll hope that the eye will heal as God wills."
"We must pray that the young man returns to you," put in Mrs. Ramsey.
Odessa glanced up at the doctor, the depth of concern slowly sifting down into her consciousness. "He might ... die?"
The kindly doctor paused, looking to her and her sister from beneath sagging lids. And then he nodded. "We've done what we can. The rest is indeed up to the Lord."
"And good medical care," Nic said. He wrapped an arm around Odessas shoulders from her other side. "Can we see him, Doctor?"
"Straightaway." He turned and held back the curtain, allowing them entrance to the other side of the room. There, they saw three pristine white beds, one of which Bryce occupied. They moved over to him slowly, as if in procession, wanting to be near him but fearing the worst.
They stopped, Odessa beside him, Nic and Moira behind her. Odessa reached out so she could touch him where it might hurt the man least. "I will
pray for his recovery," said Mrs. Ramsey. And then she disappeared behind the curtain again.
Bryce was bandaged, but it was evident that he was grotesquely swollen and bruised.
"I ... I don't have the words," Moira said, looking toward her sister in misery. Twin tears tracked down either cheek.
"I do," Odessa whispered, bowing her head. "Father God, be with us now, here. You once heard Bryce pray for me. I ask that You hear my prayer for him now. Please, please, God. Do not take him. Heal him. Make him whole again. Restore him to consciousness, give him complete sight. Heal his wounds." Odessa was crying now. She sank to her knees and ignored Dominic moving away. "We beg You, Jesus. I beg You. Please."
"Please," Moira whispered in echo.
Chapter
26
Bryce awakened the next day and felt Odessas hand in his. He smiled, wondering if he was dreaming, if she was truly here, if he was truly alive. And then he remembered.
He sat up. Too fast. Pain shot through his head and he was instantly nauseous.
"Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Odessa cried, a hand now on his chest, another at his back, easing him back to the blessed crisp sheets.
"Odessa," he panted, eye shut now. "Are you all right? Wherewhere am I?"
"Shh, shh, Bryce. You must rest. You were attacked but you're safe now. You're at Doctor Ramsey's. Please-"
"Odessa!" He forced his good eye open and focused on her. "You're ... we're in danger."
"Who's in danger?" Sheriff Bannock was in the room. He hadn't seen him.
Bryce groaned. He forced his eye open again and stared at the man. "The men-"
"Who were they, McAllan? Did you recognize them?" Bannock asked.
"No. They had masks over their faces. I didn't recognize any of them."
"What'd they want?"
"I-I'm uncertain. I can't-I can't remember."
"They were highwaymen. You were robbed and beaten and left for dead."
Bryce closed his eye and lifted a hand to his head as if it ached. He shook it slightly. "They robbed me?"
Breathe: A Novel of Colorado Page 23