Chapter Twenty-Two

“Hold the light closer,” Roady whispered, hunkered down by the back door of Mrs. Van Gleek’s cabin.

Francis moved the lantern as close to the side of Roady’s face as he could get without burning the foreman. The other men waited on their horses twenty feet away, hidden among the trees. No use having them all out in the open in case somebody else showed up with the same idea they had.

Roady delicately probed the lock with a long, bent nail, his ear pressed to the door. “There she is,” he said with a gentle twist of his wrist. “Easy now, sweetheart. Come to daddy.” He glanced up at Francis and smiled. “We should be in shortly.”

Francis heard the click. He let go of the breath he was holding and waved to the others. Soon everyone except Pedro, who stood watch a few hundred feet down the road, concealed between the rocks, silently moved through the door. The amigo, who had the eyesight of an owl and the hearing of a wolf, wouldn’t let anyone take them by surprise.

Inside, the furniture was sparse and rustic. The dry sink at the end of a counter on the far wall was still stacked with dirty dishes, and the floor was none too clean. A skittering sound behind a handful of logs on the stone hearth told Francis the home wasn’t rodent-proof—Lucky would have something to say about that if he were here.

Shad went to each window and pulled closed the coarse brown curtains as Nick, with a lantern of his own, scanned the room. Roady took the lamp from Francis as soon as they came inside and began a meticulous search of the place with Francis close behind. What one man missed, another might see.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Nick shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

Francis couldn’t believe he was already asking questions. His attention span was that of a gnat. Roady had given detailed instructions before they’d retrieved their weapons and ridden out. Now here was Shad’s younger brother already needing direction.

“Anything that looks out of place,” Roady said quietly. “Anything that looks wrong. Anything that brings a question to your mind.”

Nick lifted his hat and scratched his head. “Like why didn’t this woman do her job? This place is a mess.”

“Hush,” Shad said irritably. “Just get to lookin’. You’ll know it when you see it.”

Nick shrugged and then smiled. “I suppose.”

Heck, the place is so small we’ve already looked everywhere in the first three minutes, Francis thought. What more can we find? Frustrated, he smacked one fist into his palm. Something had to be here. A clue that would clear Luke. He wasn’t leaving until they found some evidence. Francis lifted a small rug in the middle of the room. A brownish stain resembling a three-quarter moon, of all things, marred the wooden floor. “Here!” he called excitedly. “Here’s where Benson fell.”

The men crowded around.

Francis tried to visualize how Van Gleek would have lain. Which way had his feet been pointing? Had he just entered, or come out of the bedroom? He took a long step to the door. “Say he came inside like this.” He walked to the middle of the room. On his left was the fireplace where the rock chimney climbed the wall by the front door. He reached out a hand. “If I lean far enough, I can touch the fireplace tools.” He did.

Roady’s brows creeped up his forehead. “That’s good, Francis. Pick up the poker.”

It wasn’t as heavy as he’d expected. He stared at the mark on the floor. “That’s a lot of blood in one place,” Francis said.

Shad hunkered down, staring at the stain. “Didn’t she claim Luke and her husband had a fistfight?”

“She did,” Roady answered. “Over money, of all things.” He scoffed. “Ending with a blow to the side of his head that killed him. If that were the case, more bloodstains would be splattered around. I’ve never had a fight where I didn’t break the skin of my knuckles or get a bloody nose or lip.” He glanced around. “Anyone see any other spots? Look close. They could be tiny.”

After a few moments, everyone shook their heads.

“Not a thing,” Francis said. The crimson spot will tell its own story. “Heads bleed a lot. I remember getting that tiny cut on my hairline over my forehead and thought I’d bleed out.” He fingered the small scar and then chuckled.

Like granite sculptures, no one moved.

“We don’t know if this stain is from the back of his head or his face.” Nick pushed up to his feet and the others followed.

A hoot of an owl sounded, followed by two more short hoots.

“Pedro. He’s spotted something. We better go.”

“Look!” Across the room, Francis thought he saw something almost covered by a chair. Shad quietly moved the furniture to the side, revealing the print of a boot.

Roady stared a long time.

Francis felt sweat break out in his palms. This was something important. A chance find that might be the difference between life and death.

“Someone stepped in the blood,” Roady said, even though that fact was obvious. He carefully considered the marking.

“Not someone. By the size, the print belongs to a man. We’ve just cut the field by fifty percent,” Francis corrected. “No woman I’ve ever seen has boots that large.” He gave a long whistle. “If I’m wrong, and she does, you can tar and feather me.” He pointed closely at the heel. “And look at this. One side’s uneven, worn down differently.”

Roady nodded, still gazing at the print and then glanced up at Francis. “Good work.”

As Francis stood, he spotted a glimmer of silver wedged between the chair’s cushion and the base of the armrest. He palmed a money clip fashioned in the shape of a gun and holding two one dollar bills. “Might be Benson’s. Might be the killer’s. Who knows?”

“Bring it,” Roady barked. “Something that unique has a history.” Before making for the door, Roady placed his boot over the print, checking the size. His boot covered the print completely. “Everyone, hold your foot over the mark.”

The men followed orders. Shad’s boot overshadowed the stain. Same with Nick.

Francis’s fit the mark to a T. “Just like Cinderella.” He chuckled as a small amount of relief passed through him. He replaced the chair over the boot print hiding the evidence and Roady threw the rug back over the brownish bloodstain. Whoever was here must have been in such a panic to leave they didn’t notice the print. Or had the bloodstain been covered on purpose?

Nick blew out their lanterns, and then Shad went around the room and opened the curtains. The place looked exactly like when they arrived; except for the fact the bloody boot print was now completely hidden. If no one had noticed before, they’d definitely not find the mark now unless they moved the furniture.

In total silence, the men exited the cabin, and Roady clicked the door closed but was unable to lock it without a key. “Can’t be helped,” he said as they hustled to their horses. “Doesn’t matter anyway. We got what we came for. They’ll know we’ve been inside.”

Pedro rode into sight. “Sheriff Jones coming over the ridge. Still a few minutes away.”

“Good work, Pedro,” Roady said, swinging his leg over Fiddlin’ Dee. “And good work to the rest of you. I have a feeling we’re on to something.” Roady reined around.

The men followed. Francis brought up the rear. Knowing Roady as he did, he was sure the foreman would take them in the opposite direction for some time, circle around, and then reenter Priest’s Crossing on the other side of town after finding a new spot to cache their guns. They’d have their horses back in the corral before sunup, and be warm in their beds if anyone came looking.

Francis thought about the coming meeting with Ashley and wondered if he’d get an interview with Mrs. Van Gleek. As much as he hoped he would, only time would tell.