Chapter Forty-Five

 

Ashley blinked and opened her eyes. What had disturbed her sleep? She held her breath, listening intently. She’d been dreaming about Francis and the kiss they’d shared. After a moment, her eyelids once again drooped. He’d surprised her, so bold in the daylight. The thought tickled her fancy. Her lighthearted peace was chased away by the weight of her responsibility. She must consider her mother, the orchard, and of course the school children too. She couldn’t be led astray by a handsome face.

Francis was an interesting mixture. A tease and a sharp-eyed protector of his boss. She admired his conviction. And his playfulness. He’d been nothing but straightforward with her.

What did her future hold?

There! Again. The noise. Was a mouse burrowing a hole somewhere in the house?

An uneasy feeling slid down her spine. She wished she hadn’t awakened. Wished she could go back to dreaming of things to come. And yet that didn’t sound like a mouse. Or her mother. Gathering all her courage, Ashley scooted to the wall side of her bed and very carefully lifted the corner of her curtains, looking as far down the back side of the house as she could manage.

Nothing. Her heart slowed, and she actually smiled at her runaway imagination.

Turning her head, she jerked back so sharply she bit her bottom lip, the metallic taste of blood slicking the inside of her mouth, the pain keeping her from crying out in surprise.

Somebody in the darkness of the orchard trees stood not five feet away at Blanche’s window. Ashley struggled to see. Identify the person. She couldn’t. As she lowered the fabric, moving slower than cold honey, she thought of Francis.

The man tapped again on the window glass.

She strained to hear.

“Blanche,” he whispered in a raspy voice. “I saw the light. You don’t fool me. I’ve come to tell you to stay calm. If you think to go to the sheriff and blame me, you’ll end up like Mildred. That woman couldn’t stop asking questions. I’ll be watching you.”

The murderer!

Francis was right! Fear froze Ashley’s limbs. Blanche and this unknown man had murdered Benson and intended to pin the crime on Luke McCutcheon. And poor Mildred! Ashley grabbed her sheet pulling it up to her chin. The monster had killed her too.

Something had to be done, but what? This might be the only chance to clear Francis’s boss. She had to see who the night visitor was. Moving as if in a dream, she slipped silently out of bed, went to her wardrobe, and swung a black cape over her nightdress, tying the cords under her chin. Finished, she pulled on socks and then her boots, the darkness making it difficult to get them laced.

Only two or three minutes had passed. If she could sneak out the kitchen door and then run down to the road and hide in the bushes, she could identify the man when he went back to town. She felt certain he wouldn’t break in. If that had been his intention, he would have done so already. Probably just wanted to threaten Blanche. As long as her mother stayed asleep, she’d be in no danger.

With her heart wedged in her throat, Ashley pushed quickly out the side kitchen door, pulled it tight behind her, and slipped away into the trees, all the while expecting a hand to reach out and grasp her shoulder.

Before exiting her room, she’d peeked out one more time, confirming his still immobile presence. Her heart thundered, and her hands shook so much she could barely hold together the edges of her cape. Once behind a thick buffalo berry bush, she stopped and listened. Had he come on foot or ridden a horse? All she had to do was get down the slight hill, cross the road, and then wait. But she needed to hurry.

A quarter moon hung in the sky, giving little light. She didn’t dare use the footpath that most everyone in Priest’s Crossing used. He’d most likely come that way himself. She needed to pick her way through the brush, staying low and keeping quiet. Almost to the bottom, she breathed a shaky sigh of relief. Now she’d just need to dart across the road and hide on the other side.

Crouching low, she edged closer to the road and was about to examine both ways in the dim moonlight when a twig snapped. She jerked back into cover. To be able to see his face, she’d need to be across the road so he came toward her and not just beside.

The man emerged from the hillside, doing as she’d done, staying off the well-known path. He was dressed in black and was on foot. He was tall with wide shoulders, just like most men in town. He had a cloak or something over his head. He paused, searched his surroundings, crossed the road, and disappeared on the far side, walking in the direction of town.

She’d been so close! She couldn’t let him get away. This was the answer they all were searching for. Once he was gone, if she stayed on the road and ran, at least for some of the way, she might beat him. Going overland, he’d have to move slowly in the dark.

Fear had her mouth dry as parched earth after a drought. She counted, huddling behind her bush. How much time had passed? So much rode on her efforts. She couldn’t worry about getting hurt. That poor family. Luke McCutcheon. She had to make her feet work.

Enough hiding. Seeing the man leave her property was a blessing. She didn’t have to worry over her sleeping mother’s safety. Descending the small rise to the road, Ashley gathered the length of her long nightgown and set off. She’d run this way before, when she’d been late for school or on an errand. The distance to town was only about a quarter mile. She wasn’t afraid of the night—just the killer she knew was out there.

“Strap on the gun belts,” Francis instructed Nick. The weight of the guns felt good on his hips. “We’ll divide up the rifles.” Each man had brought along his Remington as well as his sidearm and bullets. Two saddlebags were heavy with boxes of ammunition.

Nick handed him two rifles and cradled three in his arms. “We’ll need to take the long way around and come in behind the back of the hotel.”

Francis nodded.

Nick had followed orders and thought quickly on his feet. Maybe the two had more common ground than Francis had previously thought. “I’m counting on Roady having that back door unlocked. I’m ready to go. How about you?”

Nick nodded. The creaky floor was unnerving, but they’d cleared the area. No one was around to hear. Pink hadn’t been anywhere near the livery, and the windows of his small shack out back were dark. No telling if he was in or out.

They emerged from the rickety building, keeping to the tree line. Hunched over with their load, they snuck along the side of the road and then ducked behind some underbrush. They were about to start picking their way toward the hotel when Francis pulled up short.

Someone whispered.

He put a finger to his lips then placed his feet carefully so as not to snap any twigs. They went farther into the brush, curious to see who was out there. Ike! Jonathan Burg! Other men from the ranch. Francis straightened and walked forward to a barrage of guns drawn from their holsters. “Hold your fire.”

“That you, Francis?”

Relief surged through him. “Sure, it’s me! And Nick. Am I ever glad to see you. How could you leave the ranch?” Bob and Tanner were there as well… and Leonard Browning, attorney in Y Knot, and the ever straight-standing Judge Harrison Wesley. Francis hadn’t seen the judge since last May when he’d come through Y Knot to take care of the Sangers. “I can’t believe my eyes!”

“With no new reports reaching our ears and no one returning, we got worried,” Jonathan said, his beat-up, sweat-stained hat still pulled low over his eyes, even in the darkness. “We got word back from Flood. They’re set to reach Y Knot tomorrow, so they sent us on ahead. Didn’t want to risk somethin’ happenin’ to Luke.” He glanced around at the others, who nodded. “Justin’s still in town as well as Hayden Klinkner, Morgan Stanford, and others. This was important.”

Ike’s face was drawn. “We wanted to come sooner. But we couldn’t until we got an order. Browning returned from Waterloo on the same day the judge here meandered into Y Knot with his family and two loaded wagons.” His crooked smile appeared in the scant moonlight. “We were just about to ride into Priest’s Crossing and find you men, but the hour’s late. We didn’t want to startle Jack, knowing his history. We don’t want a war.”

Jonathan edged in closer. “Felt prudent to wait until morning to see who was friend and who wasn’t.” He eyed all the weapons Francis and Nick held awkwardly in their arms and gun belts buckled around their hips.

At the moment, Francis felt a little amused himself.

“And what in sake’s name are you two doin’? Raiding the town of their guns?”

“No, but that’s not a half-bad idea,” Nick said.

Francis pulled back his shoulders. “We’re gettin’ ready for trouble. Jack confiscated my firearm when I arrived and will take yours as well or anyone else associated with Luke. Before he could take these, I told Roady and the others to hide ’em. Today Nick heard talk of a lynching. They don’t like the fact Harrison and Luke are friends. Think the judge will be partial. We don’t want to be unprepared if they decide to act on their words.”

“A lynching will not take place,” Harrison barked out. “After all the years judges serve riding up and down the territory, we end up knowing everyone. The outlaws, the law keepers, and everyone between. Jack Jones and the rest of Priest’s Crossing can go suck eggs for all I care. Familiarity can’t be helped with so few judges serving the territories.”

Nick tipped his head. “They might not be quite so understanding.”

“Don’t bother me in the least,” Harrison replied.

Francis was close enough to see the fire in the judge’s eyes.

“How’s Luke holding up?” Leonard Browning asked. “His confinement’s going on two weeks. That would be difficult for anyone.”

Francis and Nick exchanged another brief glance. The men would be shocked when they saw Luke. “Not good,” Francis said. “Townsfolk blame his Cheyenne blood. Rumors have run rampant. In their heads, he’s been tried and convicted. Luke’s confinement is hard on Faith and Colton as well. Sooner this is wrapped up and we’re on the way back to the ranch, the better. Oh, another interesting fact. An old woman died last night. They say she fell and broke her neck. But to me, looked like she’d been doing some entertaining. The killer may have struck again.”

“That’d be a bold move. Killing twice in the same town,” Ike mumbled.

Francis shrugged. “Maybe he’s gettin’ jittery. Maybe she knew something…”

The horses looked worn out. They stood quietly as Bob held their reins. A modicum of pride stirred in Francis’s chest. He realized, without being asked, he was almost running the show. A fleeting thought of Ashley went through his mind, and he was grateful she was home in her bed, safe from murderers feeling the heavy burden of their guilt.

“What do you think about staying out here for a while longer?” Francis asked the men. “Let Browning and the judge ride in together alone tomorrow morning?” He glanced at Nick. “Just keeping some cards close to the vest feels righter than wrong. Things have been strange around here. No one’s talking sense. They believe the widow’s far-fetched claim of Luke killing her husband for money and then beating her too. To tell you the truth, I don’t know what the heck will happen.”

“I can’t be plotting a breakout or sneaking around,” Harrison said.

“Me either,” Browning joined in. “We’ll follow the law.”

Francis nodded. “Good. That’s what Luke wants. You tell the town that and see if they listen.”

Jonathan gripped Francis by his shoulder.

In all actuality, seeing these friendly faces was nice.

“You can count on me, Bob, Tanner, and Ike, to remain here. Is this the best place to camp to stay out of sight? Sure wish we still had Uncle Pete with us.”

Pain at their fallen comrade’s memory sliced at Francis. “I know. I miss him too.” He glanced around. “This is as good a place as any. Now, Tanner, being new to the ranch, I have a different job for you. No one knows you around these parts or even much in Y Knot, so you’re gonna do some undercover work. Come into town but steer clear of us. Pretend you’re a stranger. You might learn something we can’t.” Fighting to get under the three gun belts buckled around his hips, he fished in his pocket and pulled out the money clip. “Flash this around and see what happens. Someone’s bound to know something.”

The men gathered around to see what Francis was talking about.

“That we know of, only two of ’em were in town. Neil Huntsman, Tilly’s husband and the clerk at the bank, owns one, and he’s been cleared. I found this one at Benson’s cabin, wedged in the cushions of a chair. Might belong to the killer. Find out what you can.”

Tanner, the youngest of the Petty boys, flashed his easygoing smile. “Will do, Francis.”

“Good man.” Francis glanced to the judge and attorney to see if they would object.

“That’s not breaking any laws that I know of,” Browning said. He shrugged and looked at Judge Wesley for confirmation.

“None. Just don’t ask me any questions, and I won’t have to lie.”

“Good enough, then,” Francis replied, feeling a whole lot better about the situation. He and Nick still had to get the guns back to the hotel unseen, and the hours were slipping away. “Luke will be damn happy to see you, Harrison. You too, Browning.” He grinned at the ranch hands. “And you know how he feels about all you. Thank you for coming. We never thought this arrest would go on so long.” Francis hefted the two rifles back into his arms. He looked to Nick. “You ready?”

“As much as I’ll ever be. That’s a good idea with Tanner, I’ll give you that.”

Francis smiled, knowing how much that compliment must cost his rival. “Wish us luck, boys,” he said, looking at the group. “We’ll see some of you in the morning, God willing.”