The Outlaw's Daughter

by Margaret Brownley

  He gave a casual shrug of his shoulders, but she noticed he avoided her eyes. “Beats me.”

  She hesitated before asking the next question. “You don’t suppose…Neal robbed that stage, do you?” Even as she said it aloud, everything inside protested the thought, and the words felt like acid in her mouth.

  Anvil’s gray eyes met hers. “We don’t know that.”

  “How…how else could the money have gotten there?”

  He shook his grizzled head. “I don’t know the answer to that. All’s I knows is that the Neal Blackwell I knew was no thief.”

  Ellie-May knotted her hands by her side. She wished with all her heart that she had Anvil’s faith in her late husband and could believe in his innocence. But when all the signs pointed to the contrary, what else could she think?

  “Why…why did you move it?” she asked.

  “The way those steps keep rotting away, I didn’t want to leave it there. I was sure someone would find it and…”

  She flinched as she finished the sentence for him. “Know what Neal had done?”

  Anvil gave his head an emphatic shake. “Like I said, we don’t know that.”

  Ellie-May clasped her hands to her chest. “If this comes out, I won’t be able to protect the children.”

  “Now, don’t you go worryin’ none, Miss Ellie-May. I plan to burn the money.” He made a motion with his hands as if striking a match. “That way, no one will ever know what we found.”

  The thought of all that money going up in flames made her feel sick. “That would be wrong, Anvil. The money doesn’t belong to us. It should be returned to the bank.”

  Anvil wrinkled his nose. “I don’t disagree,” he said slowly. “But if we walk into the bank and drop off a sack of money, they might start askin’ questions.”

  “I have a different idea,” she said and told him her plan for leaving it on the mayor’s doorstep.

  He frowned, and his eyebrows twitched. “I don’t know, Miss Ellie-May. Riding around with all that money could be dangerous. What if you get caught? I still think burning it is the better option, much as it pains me to say so.”

  She shook her head. “The only way to get rid of Roberts for good is to convince him that the money isn’t here at the farm. That…it’s in the sheriff’s hands.”

  Anvil ran his hand over his whiskered chin. “I still think my plan is best.”

  “My son was in danger today and almost killed a man.” Shuddering at the memory, she suddenly felt cold and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “That’s something he would have had to live with for the rest of his born days. Do you know what a thing like that can do to a person?”

  Anvil frowned. “No one would have blamed him.”

  “Maybe not,” she said, her voice edged with doubt and frustration. Would a town that had blamed her for her father’s deeds be less judgmental of her son? Somehow, she doubted it. “You know he’s a sensitive child.” Sensitive like his pa.

  Anvil thumbed his suspenders and blew out his breath. “Okay, if your heart is set on returning the money to the bank, let me do it.”

  She shook her head. “This is something I have to take care of,” she said. She would never know what madness had caused Neal to rob that stage, but she wanted to believe that he would approve of the money’s return.

  * * *

  The next morning, Anvil stood in front of the barn, waiting for her when she returned from taking the children to school.

  The moment she pulled up in front of him, he heaved the burlap sack into the back of the wagon. Earlier, she had stuffed the single banknote she’d taken into the sack and it was a relief to be rid of it.

  “Do you want me to go with you?” he asked.

  Grasping the reins of her horse in her hand, she shook her head. “I’ll be all right.” If something should go wrong, she didn’t want to involve Anvil.

  His frown told her he didn’t approve, but he backed away. “Okay, then.”

  Tossing him a nod, she shook the reins and circled the wagon around. It was already hot and the air as thick as a wet blanket, but that was the least of her concerns.

  If she got caught with the sack of stolen money, that would be the end. She would land in prison and would probably never again see the light of day. What would become of her children then? She had no family, and who in their right mind would want to adopt an outlaw’s young’uns?

  Cold sweat dripped off her forehead as she drove her horse and wagon to the mayor’s house. Her heart pounded whenever she passed another on the road. She smiled and waved as she normally would, but her heart wasn’t in it.

  The mayor lived a couple of miles out of town, his house hugged by a small grove of trees. All was quiet when she pulled up in front. It was as if the very earth held its breath. Her heart thumping madly, she took a moment to calm down before climbing from her seat.

  She wiped her damp hands on the side of her skirt and walked on wooden legs to the back of the wagon. All she had to do was place the sack on the mayor’s porch, and the nightmare would be over. No one would know who put it there and her secret would be safe.

  Just as she was about to reach into the back of the wagon, the door flew open, startling her. She whirled about just as the mayor stepped onto the porch.

  “Mrs. Blackwell!” he called out in a cheery voice. “What a surprise. What brings you here?”

  She stared at him, unable to move. “I…I…” Swallowing hard, she forced herself to think. “I was on the way to town and thought something…eh…was wrong with my wagon wheel.”

  “Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” Much to her horror, he joined her and checked the back wheel.

  The gunnysack was in plain sight, and there was nothing she could do about it except pray he didn’t see it.

  “Looks okay to me,” he said.

  “Th-thank you,” she stammered, hoping he would leave. Instead, he proceeded to check the other three wheels.

  “I don’t see any problems, but you might want to stop at the wagon works in town and have Bobby Joe check.”

  “Thank you, I will,” she said. Anxious to leave, she climbed into the driver’s seat and grabbed hold of the reins. “I won’t take up any more of your time.”

  He looked up at her. “I wonder if you’d mind doing me a favor?”

  “A favor?”

  “My horse threw a shoe, and I don’t have any way of getting to town. Since you’re heading that way, I hope you don’t mind giving me a lift.”

  She sucked in her breath. “Oh.”

  He gave her a questioning look. “You are headed for town, right?”

  “Yes, of course,” she said, and since there didn’t seem to be any way out of it, she added, “I’d be happy to give you a lift.”

  “Much obliged. I have a meeting in town and don’t want to be late.” He indicated the house with a nod. “Let me just get my hat.”

  While the mayor returned to the house, Ellie-May glanced over her shoulder. The sack was in plain sight. Worse, so was the bank’s name stamped on the side. She frantically scanned the wagon bed in search of something that could be thrown over the bag. Finding nothing, she visually searched the side of the road for a hiding place, but before she could act, the mayor returned and heaved his bulky form onto the passenger seat.

  “You can drop me off at the stables,” he said. “I need to make arrangements for the farrier to shoe my horse.”

  Nodding woodenly, she drove the wagon forward, her heart in her throat.

  27

  After dropping the mayor off at the stables, Ellie-May raced back home.

  Anvil rushed out of the barn to greet her. Spotting the sack of money still in the back of the wagon, he frowned. “What happened?”

  She jumped down from the wagon and quickly explained, her words tumbling out like rushing
waters. Even now, long after the danger of being caught had passed, she was still shaking.

  “So what do we do now?” Anvil asked.

  “I don’t know, but there’s got to be a way of returning the money without being caught.” It was the only way to end this nightmare.

  Anvil scratched the side of his head. “I don’t know, Miss Ellie-May. Times are tough. Much as I hate sayin’ this, most people findin’ that much loot ain’t likely to turn it in.”

  She pressed her hands to her chest. Anvil was right, but the only way she could think to keep Roberts away was to get rid of the money. “There’s got to be someone we can trust,” she said.

  Anvil looked dubious. “Until we figure out who that someone is, we best hide it.” He reached into the wagon and groaned, hand on his back.

  “Let me help you,” she said, rushing to his side. The bag was bulky but not that heavy, weighing little more than forty pounds.

  As they lifted the sack from the wagon, a thought suddenly occurred to her. “What about the church?” she asked. Pastor Wayne was a man of integrity. He would see that the money was returned to its rightful owner.

  “What about the church?”

  At the sound of Matt’s voice, both she and Anvil froze, the sack of money slung between them like a dead body.

  * * *

  Matt stared at the bulging gunnysack Ellie-May and her farmhand were holding. The sack was tied with rawhide and filled his nose with a musky smell.

  Her face ashen and eyes bright with fear, Ellie-May released her end of the bag, and it dropped to the ground. “What…what are you doing here?” she stammered.

  “I hired a couple of men to watch your property should Roberts return,” he said. “I was showing them around.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You…you did that?” she said, clearly shocked.

  “Yeah, I did. Like I told you, I don’t want to see you or your children harmed.”

  She covered her trembling lips with her hand, and her shoulders slumped forward in defeat.

  Matt tossed a nod at the gunnysack. Curiosity mingling with dread, he stared at Ellie-May with raised eyebrows. “Is this—?”

  A look of despair crossed her face. “You got what you wanted,” she said, her voice but a whisper.

  Matt clenched his jaw. There was no denying he had wanted to find the stolen money, but he’d hoped to do it without implicating her or her family.

  Anvil let go of the bag like it had suddenly burned his hands and stepped away.

  Matt moved closer to the sack and squatted. Untying the rawhide string, he pulled out a stack of banknotes held together with a paper band. He rifled through the crisp bills and tried to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. It was the loot he’d been looking for, all right. No question. He couldn’t be certain, but it looked like it was all there.

  He returned the banknotes to the sack and straightened. “What are you doing with it?”

  Ellie-May seemed at a loss for words, so Anvil spoke in her place. “We were gonna return it to its rightful owner, and that’s the God-honest truth.”

  Matt glanced at Ellie-May with a raised eyebrow. “After all this time, you finally decided to return it?”

  “I only recently found it,” she said, dropping her hand to her side. “I had no idea it was beneath the porch till the day I tried to fix the step.”

  His eyebrows drew together. “Was that when—?”

  She nodded. “I was so sure you’d see the sack hidden there.”

  He remembered the day all too well. Even now, he could recall how fetching she’d looked. How they’d worked together. How, after he’d fixed the step, she’d given him her first real smile and the warm glow had followed him all the way back to town.

  Funny how he could recall everything about her that day in startling detail but could hardly remember repairing the broken step. He remembered the captivating way she’d blushed when their fingers touched, her eyes shifting from sky blue to almost sapphire in color. At the time, he’d thought she was reacting to the spark that had flown between them. Now he knew the reason she had been so tense had nothing to do with him as he’d hoped and everything to do with protecting her deceased husband.

  Silently cursing himself for having been so easily distracted, he shook his head. The money had been practically at his fingertips, and he’d missed it.

  “Why didn’t you just leave it hidden? Why return it now?”

  She closed her eyes, her hands clutched to her chest, and he heard her intake of breath. After a long moment, she opened her eyes with a sigh. “I was afraid Roberts would come back. I couldn’t take the chance of putting my children in further danger.” She shuddered. “I can’t forget that Lionel almost killed a man.”

  She fell silent and studied him with troubled eyes as if trying to decide how far she could trust him. When at last she spoke again, her voice was so soft, Matt had to lean forward to catch every word.

  “Please don’t think poorly of Neal,” she pleaded. “When he was Lionel’s age, he accidentally killed his childhood friend. He was cleaning his rifle when it went off.” Ellie-May paused for a moment, her face more serious than Matt had ever seen it. “Don’t you see? Neal spent his life trying to make up for what he’d done. Even so, it haunted him till the day he died. That’s why he was always doing for others.” She wrung her hands together. “Why he ran into that burning school.”

  Anvil nodded. “He was a good man, that one.”

  Matt rubbed a finger along his upper lip. A childhood tragedy had defined Neal Blackwell’s life, just as the death of his father had defined his.

  Had his father not been shot, he doubted he’d be a Texas Ranger. His plan had always been to buy land and raise horses. Being a lawman had been the last thing on his mind.

  As for his brother Charley… Had he not blamed himself for his father’s death, would he still have turned to a life of crime? Matt doubted it.

  Forcing such dark thoughts away, he stared at the bag of money. Even with the proof staring him in the face, he was reluctant to believe Blackwell guilty of robbing that stage. Matt didn’t want to think that his desire to protect Ellie-May—protect her two adorable children—had blinded him to the truth, but there didn’t seem to be any other explanation.

  “The man you described doesn’t sound like someone who would suddenly turn to stage robbery,” he said.

  His words softened her features. “I know,” she said. “It makes no sense.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I never thought the man I married would do such a thing. Neal was good and kind and loving and…” She shook her head. “I don’t know how to explain”—she tossed a nod at the gunnysack—“I don’t know how to explain that.”

  Matt reached in his pocket for a clean handkerchief and handed it to her. He’d once worried that she had been involved in the holdup, but he now knew that wasn’t true and he felt greatly relieved.

  Murmuring thanks, she balled the handkerchief in her hand and dabbed at her eyes.

  “You have what you came to town for,” she said and implored him with tearful eyes. “Must you reveal where you got it? Can’t you just return it to its rightful owners and be done with it?”

  He backed away from her but only so he could think more clearly. Reminding himself that he was a Texas Ranger with a job to do, he shook his head. “I’ll have to write a full report. It’s my job.”

  “Please,” she whispered. “Can’t you leave Neal’s name out of it?”

  He sucked in his breath. “You’re asking me to lie.”

  “I’m asking you to protect my children. If it’s known that their father—” A sob stifled her words.

  “Ellie-May…”

  She looked away, and he felt about as bad as it was possible to feel. He wanted to protect her, protect her family. Heck, he even wanted to protect her deceased husband. He
just didn’t know how. Or even if he could.

  Her gaze collided with his. “I don’t want them growing up in the shadow of an outlaw father like I did,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Surely, you can understand that.”

  He understood all right, but that only made his job harder. Grimacing, he stared at the sack of money. Usually, when he reached the end of an investigation, the pieces fell into place. But not this time. He’d come across other men who’d led double lives but not at the extremes Neal Blackwell had. It didn’t seem possible that a man could be both a town hero and stage robber.

  Things just didn’t add up. Why would a man intent upon righting a terrible wrong done as a child suddenly turn thief? It made no sense. And why hide the money under the porch where it could do neither him nor his family any good?

  “If it’s known that the money has been turned in,” Matt said, “Roberts will likely leave town.”

  “Good riddance!”

  He frowned. “Ellie-May, I need time to figure out how to handle this.”

  She glared at him. “All you’re interested in is catching your man! You don’t care who gets hurt in the process.”

  “That’s not true. I care, more than you know. But”—he paused, searching for words—“there’s more to this story than we know. If we let Roberts get away, we might never know the truth.”

  “What truth?” she asked, her voice shaking. “The money was under my porch, and there’s only one person who could have put it there.” She twisted the handkerchief in her hands. “I just hope and pray that when the truth comes out, the town is kinder to my children than it ever was to me.”

  28

  After a sleepless night, Ellie-May prepared herself to talk to Lionel and Alicia about their pa. She wasn’t sure what would happen next, but once it was known what Neal had done, things were bound to get ugly.

  She planned to keep the children home from school, and Anvil had taken over their chores. Until she knew for certain that Roberts had either been captured or had left the area, she didn’t want to let the children out of her sight.