Renegade

by Anna Schmidt

  “That sounds real nice,” he said. He met her gaze, clearly determined to wait her out.

  Emma coughed and cleared her throat. “Well, we should get back—”

  “Not before we hear what the sheriff has to report,” Lily said sweetly, never once wavering as she continued to stare straight at Cody. She felt a twinge of victory when he blinked but then noticed how thick and long his lashes were, which distracted her from her mission. She felt warmth rise in her cheeks.

  Cody leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. “This is an investigation, ladies. The details aren’t something I can share with others. You can rest assured that I am doing everything I can to—”

  Lily thought about the way he’d been pacing his office as they approached. “You have no idea who did this to Jake, do you?”

  He bristled. “I have some thoughts,” he muttered defensively.

  “Will you be able to attend the services for Jake, Sheriff?” Emma asked, clearly anxious to break the tension that filled the room.

  “I’ll be there.” He stood, dismissing them. “Now, if you ladies don’t mind, I’d like to see you back to the hotel and then get back to work.”

  “Thank you,” Emma said at the same time as Lily announced, “We hardly need an escort.”

  Cody removed his hat from a hook and put it on. Then he opened the door and waited for them to exit, closing it before offering each his arm. “Lovely evening,” he said. “Nothing like spring and early summer in the desert.”

  To Lily’s relief, Emma kept up a running monologue about that year’s spring with the desert in full bloom. “It was quite spectacular.”

  “It was indeed,” Cody agreed, his upper arm touching Lily’s shoulder as they walked. She supposed his other arm was also touching Emma but doubted Emma was having the same reaction—the desire for more contact.

  * * *

  Jake’s murder was important to Cody on several levels. In the first place, he took a good deal of pride in Juniper being a place where people felt safe to go about their business. In the second, he’d never had a situation with fewer clues. And in the third, he had to admit, he wanted to impress Lily. For reasons he was not about to take time to analyze, he hoped to change her skeptical scowl into an admiring smile.

  Only all he was getting was frustration. The truth was he’d questioned people in town, asking if they had noticed any strangers hanging around the day Jake was attacked. No one had. His only real lead was that half-moon boot print in the dirt outside the hotel the first night Lily had come to him. Meanwhile, Victor Johnson stayed on at the hotel, spent his evenings in the saloon, and gave no clue as to why he was in Juniper. Thanks to Jake’s death, Cody hadn’t gotten to Santa Fe.

  Maybe after the funeral.

  Maybe Lily would agree to go with him.

  Maybe elephants would fly.

  Cody thought about the walk back to the hotel the previous evening. Emma had willingly tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow, but Lily had hesitated and then rested only the tips of her fingers on his arm, as if anything more might soil her. But as they walked, he caught the fragrance of the soap she used. It had taken him most of the night to identify that scent, and finally, he’d realized—lilies of the valley. Lily. The connection made him smile every time he thought of it.

  His mother used soap like that. His had been a happy childhood on the whole, happy times with his parents and siblings. There had been hard times as well—dark days they’d had to weather when his father’s store burned and through the rebuilding. Thinking about those hard times brought his thoughts back around to Lily. She struck him as someone who had suffered her fair share of sadness and hardship. What part had Victor Johnson played in that history? She’d admitted knowing him but said nothing more.

  On Saturday, he got his hair trimmed, as much for the barber shop gossip and the chance of a new lead as needing to show respect when he attended Jake’s funeral. As dawn broke on Sunday, he dressed in black pants, a cream-colored collarless shirt, and his brown leather vest with the badge pinned to its front. Folks in town were nervous, and it would ease their minds to see their sheriff at the service. That, and he hoped to see something out of the ordinary. Maybe someone unexpected.

  He was fairly sure that whoever had beaten Jake that day had not meant to kill him. They might have started out trying to send him a message and gone beyond what they’d intended. Jake had something they wanted, that much was clear. Information, perhaps.

  And since he was dead, they hadn’t gotten what they’d come for. They might think he’d passed it on to someone in the town. Or maybe they imagined they were being tricked—that Jake wasn’t really dead but had been spirited away for his own safety.

  Either way, it was entirely possible the killers might mix in with other mourners at the funeral.

  Cody climbed the hill behind the hotel to the small cemetery. The space was surrounded by a low wrought iron fence and already half filled with markers of citizens of Juniper who had passed on. The Harvey Girls formed a circle around the open grave, solemn in their black uniform dresses, while the men from Jake’s kitchen staff, led by Aidan Campbell, slowly carried the pine coffin from the hotel to its final resting place. The priest took his place at the head of the grave and began the service, intoning the prayers and scriptures.

  Scanning the group, Cody saw Nick Hopkins among the other mourners, alongside Nick’s employers, Rita and John Lombard. There were Doc Waters and his wife standing next to Frank Tucker and Abigail Chambers. Other business owners and townspeople who had counted Jake a friend, including Ellie Swift, formed a half circle behind the priest. A little apart from the others stood Sally Barnett, along with her bartender and her girls, all dressed as sedately as their wardrobes might allow. Their faces were devoid of rouge and powder, and Cody realized with a start how young some of them were.

  But it was the presence of Victor Johnson that gave Cody pause. Why would he come to the funeral of a man he’d never met? Jake worked in the kitchen, so even with Johnson staying at the hotel, it was unlikely the two men had had any reason to interact. Of course, they had both been in the Sagebrush that night. Jake had been nervous, more nervous than Cody had ever seen him before, but all he’d seemed to care about was making sure that Lily stayed away. The gears of Cody’s mind clicked into place. Maybe Johnson had come to the service because of Lily.

  Cody watched as the coffin was lowered into the ground and the men began filling the grave. Every head bowed while the priest prayed aloud—except Victor Johnson’s. Following the man’s gaze, Cody saw that Johnson was not staring at Lily but at the grave.

  When the mourners began slowly filing back down the hill to town, Johnson approached Abigail Chambers. They exchanged a few words before he took hold of her elbow to guide her over the rough ground. He leaned in to hear whatever she might be saying, and once he had seen her to the well-worn path that led back to town, he tipped his hat and watched her continue on her way in the company of other townspeople.

  The man’s gallantry surprised Cody—and raised his suspicions. What possible interest could Victor Johnson have in Miss Chambers? Certainly not enough to single her out from the throng of those gathered to bid Jake a final farewell. Cody watched as Johnson turned his attention back to the grave—and Lily—ready to intercede should he try and approach her. But after a moment’s pause, Johnson left, following the others back to town.

  Cody walked over to where the man had stood. He glanced at the loose soil and saw what he’d been looking for—a heel print with a clear half-moon. He followed the prints for a short distance until they blended with prints left by others. They fit the path Johnson was taking back to the hotel. He had nothing more than this to go on—the boot print could have been someone else’s—but his gut told him otherwise. Johnson was definitely mixed up in recent events, possibly including Jake’s death.

 
; Past time I get to Santa Fe and talk to Sheriff Drake, he thought. Past time I find out exactly what Lily knows about Victor Johnson.

  He turned back to Jake’s coworkers, still gathered around the grave. The Harvey Girls were covering the mounded dirt with branches of juniper as Aidan hammered a wooden cross into the ground at the head. Cody positioned himself on the path he was sure Lily and the other girls would take back to the hotel, but as they passed, he realized Lily was not with them.

  He glanced back and saw her kneeling next to Jake’s grave, carefully rearranging the evergreen branches to be sure they fully covered his final resting place. Cody waited, respecting her need to have this final private goodbye. By the time she turned to go, everyone else was well away. A westerly wind stirred the remains of the fine sandy dirt the men had used to fill the grave and pressed the skirt of Lily’s uniform against her legs. She pushed back a tendril of hair that had escaped its bonds, gathered her skirt, and started down the hill, glancing briefly at Cody and nodding as she continued on her way.

  As he fell into step beside her, Cody was surprised to see that she was dry-eyed. In place of the grief and distress he had expected, he saw resolution and determination in the way her jaw jutted forward. Her full lips were pressed into a thin line, and her eyes glinted with something he recognized—the need for revenge.

  “Lily, I…”

  She stopped so suddenly, Cody had moved two steps ahead of her by the time he realized she wasn’t still beside him. He turned and squinted back at her, the rising sun temporarily blinding him.

  “The next time you speak to me, Sheriff Daniels, it had best be to tell me you have an idea who did this.” Her fists were clenched, but her lower lip quivered.

  “Okay,” he said. “I have an idea who did this.” He waited for expressions of first disbelief and then doubt to play out over her face. “What I need is proof. Come with me to Santa Fe, and maybe we can find out more.”

  She blinked. “Santa Fe? What could that possibly have to do with any of this?”

  Cody took hold of her hand. The action was instinctive, but the truth was he felt he needed to touch her in order to convince her. Although he wanted badly to cup her face in his palms, taking her hand seemed wiser. “I can’t say yet, Lily, but the sheriff there may have some information. If I’m right, it may be enough to catch Jake’s killer. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  She nodded. “That’s what everyone wants,” she murmured. “Why me? What can I do in Santa Fe? I mean, surely I would be better off here, going through Jake’s room and belongings.”

  “I’ve done all that. Come with me. I’ll explain along the way. But first, I want you to look at something.” Without releasing her hand, he led the way over to the tracks—Victor’s tracks. “Do you recognize this unusual heel print?”

  Lily looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Of course not. Why would I know one boot print from the next?”

  “Look closer.” He tugged on her hand until she reluctantly bent for a closer examination. “See that?” He traced the half-moon with his forefinger. “It’s on the left boot but not the right.”

  “So some local cowboy decided to brand his boots. What of it?”

  “That night you saw Jake in the yard with the two men?”

  She waited.

  “One of those men left this exact print.”

  Her fist went to her mouth, possibly to stop herself from crying out. “You’re telling me the killer was here today?”

  Cody got to his feet, dusted off his hands, and then helped her stand as well. “Come to Santa Fe, Lily. You’ve got the rest of the day free, and I promise to have you back before your curfew.”

  “Tell me who this print belongs to first,” she bargained.

  Afraid of what she would do if he told her, Cody shook his head. “On the way to Santa Fe,” he countered.

  She scowled at him. “I have to change,” she grumbled and started down the hill.

  The church bell chimed, calling worshipers to service. “We can go as soon as you get back from church,” he said. There was no crossing Bonnie Kaufmann, and she required church attendance for all the girls.

  “We’ll go now—as soon as I get changed,” she shouted over her shoulder as she picked up her pace. “You get the buggy and meet me behind the hotel in twenty minutes. I’ll bring food from the kitchen.”

  Cody couldn’t help himself. He chuckled as he watched her go.

  * * *

  To Lily’s relief, Emma had left with the others for church by the time she reached their room. She scribbled a note telling her friend she was going to Santa Fe with Cody. Possible break in the case, she added before signing her name. Emma would cover for her, and everyone else would simply think she was too grief-stricken after the funeral to join the others for church or lunch or any other activity the day might bring.

  She took off her uniform and laid it on her bed. She would brush the dust from it later while she told Emma what she and Cody had learned. She dressed in the navy wool skirt and matching blue plaid jacket she’d bought from Tucker’s Mercantile with the tips she’d been saving. She unfurled her hair from the Harvey Girl chignon, brushed out the tangles, and used a clip to hold it in place at the nape of her neck. There was something so powerful about feeling the weight of her unleashed locks cascading down her back. Grabbing a shawl and a wide-brimmed felt hat, she hurried down the back stairs.

  Cody was already waiting.

  “Let me just pack us a lunch,” she said.

  “No need. We’ll eat at the hotel there while we talk to my friend.”

  La Casita. She’d always wanted to see that place. “It’s Sunday,” she reminded him.

  Cody shrugged. “Not every Harvey establishment shuts down on Sundays. And even if it’s closed, there’s bound to be some place we can eat.”

  Ignoring his logic—his typical male logic—Lily grabbed half a dozen poppy seed muffins, four oranges, and four cooked lamb chops from the refrigerator and stuffed them into one of the canvas sacks the staff kept by the kitchen door for leftovers. She added two cloth napkins and hurried outside. She had to admit it felt good to be doing something that might lead to justice for Jake.

  Cody relieved her of the bag, hefting it to test the weight. “I said we’d eat,” he said.

  “Snacks,” Lily replied as she hurried around to her side of the buggy and climbed aboard without waiting for his assistance. For some reason, she was determined to avoid having Cody Daniels touch her, even to be a gentleman and help her climb onto the seat. Under the circumstances, it felt as if she was somehow being disloyal to Jake. “Let’s go.”

  He climbed up to take the reins, setting the sack under the seat before releasing the brake and clucking his tongue to the team. He was still wearing the clothes he’d worn to the funeral, but Lily had noticed the addition of a blanket and the heavier jacket he sometimes wore at night in the back of the wagon.

  She waited for him to negotiate the relatively deserted main street that took them out of town, up into the foothills, and on across the prairie. Once they reached open country, she exhaled a long breath and said, “So, who killed Jake?”

  She was not going to allow him to evade her questions for one more minute. She faced him. “Well?”

  He stared straight ahead, his jaw set, his fingers tightening on the reins. “I don’t have proof, so—”

  “But you have your suspicions, so who is it?” She fully expected him to say it was some stranger Jake had somehow gotten mixed up with, perhaps someone he owed money to.

  He glanced at her. “Victor Johnson.”

  “No. I mean…Victor?” She thought of Victor’s obsession with cleanliness, his manicured nails, his perfectly tailored clothes. The idea of Victor engaging in fisticuffs was ludicrous.

  “Victor and Jake didn’t know each other,” she pointed out.<
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  “That boot print I showed you earlier? Victor was the man who left the prints we saw at the cemetery, and I’d bet my job he was one of the two men you saw in the yard that night.”

  Lily felt a chill spreading through her chest. Her mind raced. The night she’d seen Jake with the two men, she hadn’t yet known Victor was in town. But now that she thought about it, yes, one of the two could have been Victor. Had Victor known she was there in Juniper all along? Had his claim that it was all just coincidence been a ruse? Had he been trying to use Jake to get to her? Victor was clever and observant—he’d have noticed Jake’s affection for Lily right away.

  “Well?” Cody kept his eyes on the trail, but his tone told her it was his turn to be impatient for information. “I need to know everything you know about Victor Johnson, Lily.”

  “Why would you think I know anything?”

  “Don’t go back to pretending the two of you don’t know each other. A man is dead,” he snapped.

  “And that’s my fault?” Lily was afraid she already knew the answer to that question. If Victor was involved and he’d tried to use Jake to get to her, then she had blood on her hands.

  “I never said that.” His tone softened, and his shoulders and hands relaxed. “Look, Lily, if this guy is causing you trouble, don’t you want that to end?”

  His obvious concern was her undoing. She stared straight ahead. “We’re married,” she finally whispered, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve.

  If she had expected an explosive reaction, Cody surprised her. He continued to stare ahead, nodded, and said, “I see.”

  “I doubt you do,” she replied. “I doubt anyone could understand why.” She wrapped her arms around her body as if in need of a place to hide. “I’m not sure I understand it myself.”