Chapter Thirty-Two

Still unarmed, and not liking the sensation one bit, the men rode the short distance back from Ashley Adair’s home to the jailhouse in silence. That woman, Mrs. Van Gleek, gave Francis the shivers. She was creepy. She was nice-looking when she smiled, which wasn’t nearly enough, but he didn’t like the way her gaze kept searching him out. Why me? Doesn’t make any sense. I’ve never done one darn thing to her, and yet…

Seemed she was thinking things she shouldn’t. And that being the case, he didn’t like her living at Ashley’s. To his way of thinking, that woman was capable of anything, not just murdering her husband. Maybe someday she’d snap and hurt Ashley, or her mother. Why wasn’t Jack Jones doing more to break this case?

Because he thinks he has everything all figured out.

Francis reached into his pocket and fingered the fancy money clip he’d found stuck in the cushions. Roady had told him to stay quiet until they knew more. That was easy. Who did he have to tell?

Ashley.

They reined up in front of the jail. Pedro was off doing what he did best. Watching the town without being seen. Tracking people. Staying out of sight.

Francis swung his leg over his saddle when he spotted Joe Brunn standing in front of the mercantile a few doors down. “Look who’s back,” he said, wrapping his reins around the hitching rail. “Joe. And he’s headed this way.”

Roady hitched his head. “Let’s meet him halfway. More privacy.” He cut his gaze toward the jailhouse. “I have no idea who’s inside with an ear turned this way. And for now,” he gave them all a stern look, “don’t say anything about what we found at the cabin to anyone. That includes Joe. We’ll know soon enough which way this trial is turning, but let me do the talking. That clear?”

Francis nodded, relieved Roady and the men had arrived to help when they had. He still didn’t trust Nick Petty wholeheartedly, especially after this morning. The fella was either scheming or trying to get a laugh. Well, some of the tricks he pulled weren’t funny at all. Someday one of the hands would get fed up and bounce him out of the bunkhouse onto his ear. And that just might be him. Still, Francis didn’t like having irritated thoughts about one of the ranch hands, especially since he liked Shad so much.

Joe’s face was unreadable as he approached.

Roady and Joe clasped hands as soon as they were close enough. “Good to see you, Joe. It’s been too darn long.”

Joe nodded to the rest of the group. He smiled at Francis.

Still thinks I’m a kid.

“How long has it been, Guthrie? Three years, maybe? I see you’ve taken on a couple of new faces.”

“That’s right. Shad and Nick Petty.”

Small talk. Francis didn’t like the feel of the conversation. Joe seemed nervous.

“Christine has just spent the past hour filling us in on everything that’s happened. It’s been a shock, I can tell you. And Luke locked up for the crime? What the hell is going on around here, anyway?”

A whoosh of relief coursed through Francis. Finally, someone to take Luke’s side. Someone with a good standing in the town. Someone the others would listen to. Joe could make a difference, if anyone could.

“Where’s your wife?” Roady asked. “Still in the store?”

Roady probably wanted to get all the talking done before a woman filled with grief over her murdered brother was thrown into the fray. Francis wasn’t looking forward to anything like that. Women were volatile. Mrs. Van Gleek looked about ready to explode behind a tight, angry smile when they said their goodbyes. He wondered how Ashley was making out.

“Still in the store with Christine. I helped her upstairs to Christine’s bed so she could lie down.” He glanced off down the street just looking for several seconds. “I’m having a hard time believing all this.”

Roady jerked straight, as did Shad and himself. Nick looked angry, but Francis thought that was his normal expression when he was following a conversation.

“What d’ya mean, Joe?” Roady shot back. “What’s hard to believe? Luke didn’t kill anyone, and especially not Benson.”

“Don’t get your back up, Guthrie. I didn’t mean that. Benson was murdered, and Blanche roughed up. You have to understand that Benson is—was—my brother-in-law. I’ve just spent a gut-wrenching hour witnessing Pearl’s grief inside that mercantile and me unable to ease her sorrow.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, his tone icy. “I’m sorry to say, but Christine believes Blanche. The woman’s been living in Priest’s Crossing for many years. They’re friends. Blanche has been the schoolteacher and a model citizen for longer than I can remember. She’s an eyewitness to the crime. She was there! What does that leave?”

Francis couldn’t keep quiet a moment longer. “It leaves Blanche is lying!”

“Exactly my thought!” Roady blurted.

Reservation moved over Joe’s face. “I know, I know. No way in hell will I ever believe Luke is guilty, but my wife—my new wife—does! Christine too! And just about every other person living here in Priest’s Crossing. What’re we doing about that? And since Luke didn’t kill Benson, who did? That’s what I’d like to know.”

Roady and Joe were toe-to-toe. Their faces strained and bodies rigid. Francis would never believe a day like this could happen. He didn’t want to see Joe and Roady fight.

They all turned at the sound of horse hooves clopping up the street. Pedro.

Francis also spotted Faith in the doorway of the jailhouse, watching their conversation. With the distance, he doubted she could hear their words, but their body language said enough.

Turning on her heel, she disappeared back inside.

Francis squeezed the money clip in his pocket, desperation growing inside. If the town took matters into their own hands without waiting for a judge, the men and him would have to take the matter back. That was all there was to it. He couldn’t imagine that happening. People would get killed. Something had to be done and quickly.

From across the street, Daniel Clevenger watched them from the doorway of his eatery.

The icy stare he sent Francis was more than challenging.

“I’d like to take him on,” Nick whispered close at his side. “Thinks he knows everything, but he don’t.”

Hmm, maybe Nick Petty wasn’t all bad. “I know what you mean. And look down the street.” The undertaker watched, as well as the livery man.

Nick nodded. “Tempers are short. I think the real killer must be getting nervous right about now. He’s wondering what side Joe’s gonna take. He’s also wondering when a judge will show up, and what kind of evidence we’ve found.” He nudged Francis’s shoulder. “Something’s always left behind at a murder scene. Some clue to point a finger. Someone hidden to whisper a name. We know what that is. But he don’t. Maybe he’s just now discovered he can’t find his money clip and is sweating bullets.” He gave a low chuckle. “He wants to see Luke swing. The sooner, the better.” They exchanged a look. “Maybe he’ll start something himself.”

“Sounds like you’re enjoying this, Petty. Like you think Luke’s life is some game or something.”

“Not true. I don’t like seeing Luke locked up any more than you do. But I’m not gonna sit back and do nothin’ to help. The killer is out there, watching, waiting. I can feel him like the air I breathe.” He nudged Francis with his elbow. “I know I like to tease, but never doubt my loyalty.”

Colton came out of the jailhouse and hurried over to the group. His eyes lit up when he saw Joe.

Faith hadn’t passed on the news that he’d returned to Luke and Smokey. He wondered why. Because she’s scared half to death. And looks like she has more reason now than ever.

Colton tugged on Francis’s shirtsleeve. “Hey, Francis. My pa wants to talk with Roady as soon as he’s available.”

“I’ll let him know.”

“Did Roady find out anything talkin’ with Mrs. Van Gleek today?” he asked. “Or anything out at the cabin?”

“Nothin’ solid, Colton, just that the widow gives me, and the rest of the boys, the creeps.” He hated holding back from Colton, but Roady had given a direct order about keeping his mouth shut.

Across the street, Daniel retreated inside his restaurant and now Jed Kasterlee, the hotel clerk, watched. What did they expect? For the ranch hands to sit around and do nothing? That wasn’t going to happen. Luke’s time was ticking. Making every second count was vital. They had no time to lose.