Chapter Twenty
Delilah took readings from the weather equipment and jotted the notes into her father’s logbook.
Barometer: 29.95
Thermometer: 69
Wind: North by Northwest, fresh and light.
Weather: Fine and pleasant, but afternoon showers expected.
Other: Early morning rain cleansed the air. A perfectly lovely spring day. Students from the third and fourth grade classes visiting this morning.
She tucked the logbook into the desk drawer and shut it then ran a dust cloth over everything one more time to make sure the weather station was spotless before the children arrived.
Delilah let her thoughts wander to the events of the past few days as she worked. The night of the dance, she’d been mortified by Seth and Dugan’s behavior. Seth had acted far more familiar than he had a right and she’d been just as upset with him as she was Dugan for his barbaric actions. He was the one who’d started the brawl.
The next morning, she’d been getting ready for church when she heard what sounded like thunder and looked outside to see Tully, Dugan, and two of the other deputies ride by with a group of armed men. She’d learned from Brianna after the church service that someone had robbed three mines, shot a dozen men, two of whom had died, and held up a wagon carrying payroll to a remote ranch located back in the hills.
Mr. Gaffney, the manager of one of Thane’s mines, had ridden to Tully’s office, bloody and beaten, to report the robbery of Thane’s gold mine. The doctor had treated him for two bullet wounds and three broken ribs.
Tully had taken a posse out to catch the gang of outlaws Sunday morning. Now it was Wednesday and no one had heard from them since they left. Tully had asked Seth to remain behind and keep watch over what was happening in town. If the gang remained in the area, Tully figured one if not more of them would eventually come to town and visit a saloon or one of the houses of ill repute.
At least that’s what Seth told her when he stopped by to see her Sunday afternoon. He’d begged her forgiveness for his untoward behavior and explained he’d done it solely to make Dugan jealous.
Delilah was relieved Seth saw her as nothing more than a dear friend and sister, but she was aggravated with him, too. He could have pushed Dugan to the point he refused to ever speak to either of them again. The thought of that happening created an overwhelming ache in her heart. One she couldn’t deny.
Despite their fighting, or perhaps because of it, Delilah had finally admitted to herself she was in love with Dugan. That did not mean, though, that she was ready to cast aside everything and blindly surrender her independence. No, before any declarations were made, she and Dugan needed to have a long talk.
Seth had assured her Dugan would be by to see her as soon as he made it back to town. In Dugan’s absence, Seth had been escorting her to the weather station for the morning and evening reports and even helped her set up the tables for refreshments in her yard for her little guests today.
Delilah returned the dust cloth to the storage closet then looked around the weather station. Glass sparkled, instruments gleamed, and a bouquet of flowers on the corner of the desk filled the room with a wonderful scent.
The sound of giggles floated in the open door as the children approached with their teachers. Delilah stepped outside and greeted them with a warm welcome. She showed them the anemometer, the weather vane, and other equipment outside before leading them inside the weather station. She discussed how she recorded the wind speed and velocity, the temperature, and had them look at a map to see the different types of clouds.
“Who can tell me what types of clouds are overhead right now?” she asked as they returned outside.
The children all tipped back their heads and stared at the sky.
Sammy Barrett raised her hand.
“Yes, Sammy?” Delilah asked, smiling at the girl.
“Cumulus.”
“That’s correct. Good job, Sammy.”
The little girl beamed and whispered something to one of her friends.
The children asked a variety of questions then she took them over to a large sagebrush bush and motioned for them all to be quiet by placing a finger to her lips.
Carefully, she looked beneath the bush, then bent down and waved her hand, encouraging the children to join her.
“What ith it, Mith Robbinth?” asked a little fellow missing his two front teeth.
She smiled and pointed to a nest in the sagebrush made of twigs, rootlets, and bits of animal fur. “That is a sage thrasher nest, Tommy. The babies already hatched and flew away, but I thought you might like to see the nest and the broken shells.”
Sammy dropped down to her knees, along with several other students. They stared at the deep greenish blue egg shells speckled with brown. “How many babies did they have?”
“There were four of them,” Delilah said, grabbing one eager little boy’s hand before he reached into the nest. “Let’s leave the nest alone. The mama and papa bird might use it again.”
“What do they look like, the mama and papa?” Nate Palmer asked.
“That’s an excellent question, Nate. Sage thrashers are shorter and smaller-billed than most thrashers. They almost look like a robin, but instead of a robin’s red breast, they have dark brown spots.”
“What do they eat?” One of Sammy’s friends asked.
“They like berries and bugs best, Suzanne.” Delilah smiled at the little girl. “When they can’t find fresh berries, like blackberries, they’ll even eat juniper berries right off the tree. And their favorite bugs are grasshoppers, wasps, and beetles.”
“Ew,” Suzanne said, wrinkling her nose.
Delilah let the children take one more look at the nest before she lowered the sagebrush limb and stood. She brushed off her hands, locked the door to the weather station, then turned to the children and their teachers. “Would you like to visit my yard and see more birds?”
“Yes!” the children cheered.
“Right this way,” Delilah said, leading them down the hill to her house. They entered through the side gate and several of the children looked around with wide-eyed wonder. Three hummingbirds vied for a position at the feeder on the back porch. A dozen birds darted from bird feeders and bird baths to nests and tree limbs. A pair of juncos trilled tseee, tseee, tseee from high in the branches of the maple tree. Flowers of many varieties bloomed, adding splashes of color and a lovely fragrance to the garden.
Oliver, who’d been sleeping on the back porch on a child’s upholstered chair Delilah had purchased for him at Mr. Patterson’s furniture store, stretched lazily as the children streamed into the yard.
The raccoon sat up on his back legs and chattered at Delilah. She strode over and picked him up, stroking his head and back as the children circled around her.
“Does he have rabies?” one ornery lad asked. Delilah had already made note of his propensity for trouble, having watched him dump dirt down the back of one girl’s dress and push a smaller boy into the dirt when he thought no one was watching.
“No, he does not, but he will bite and you mustn’t disturb him,” Delilah warned. “However, you may all take a turn petting him, if you like.”
Delilah took a seat on the porch steps and allowed each of the twenty children to pet Oliver. By the time the last child took a turn, the raccoon had tired of the attention and gone to sleep. Afraid to leave him at the mercy of some of the rascally boys, she handed him to Sammy, asking her to keep an eye on him while she brought out the refreshments.
The teachers helped her serve punch and cookies to the children who plopped down on quilts spread on the grass and enjoyed the treat.
Nate Palmer relieved Sammy of holding Oliver while she enjoyed her cookies and punch. When the raccoon awakened, Delilah carried him to his chair on the porch and gave him several cookies, knowing he’d stay there and eat them.
Delilah showed the children the various bird’s nests and talked about the hummingbirds and how to make the best juice for them. She talked about different plants and flowers, and then organized the children in two circles to play a rousing game of The Farmer in the Dell.
The children cheered after they sang the last verse of the game when the “cheese stands alone,” leaving one child standing outside each circle.
The moment the game ended, one of the teachers, a gracious young woman Delilah had met at church, motioned the children toward the gate. “Please thank Miss Robbins for a lovely morning, children, but we must get back to school now.”
“Thank you, Miss Robbins!” the children chanted as they filed past her on their way out the gate. Sammy and Nate both gave her hugs as they left and Sammy promised to be back after school to check on Oliver.
Delilah thanked the teachers for the opportunity to entertain the children then waved to the students as they walked two abreast down the street. She stepped inside the yard and folded the quilts, taking them inside the house to be carried down to Wang Ping’s laundry later. The children had spilled punch and ground cookies into every one of them.
It didn’t take her long to carry the leftover punch and cookies to the kitchen, set the tablecloth to soaking in the sink to remove the punch stains, and clean up the last of the messes from her busy little visitors.
In the children’s eager investigation of her yard, one of the birdfeeders had been tipped over. Delilah set it aright and bent over to scoop the spilled feed back into it when the gate squeaked, signaling a visitor.
Expecting it to be one of the children or teachers, she didn’t even bother turning around. “Did you forget something?” she asked.
“Not exactly,” a male voice said.
Delilah spun around and gaped at the man who’d broken into her house. “You have no right to be here and certainly aren’t welcome. Get off my property.”
The man tossed her a lecherous grin as he sauntered into the yard. He looked as though he’d been dragged through the brush upside down and backwards. His clothes were coated in dust and streaked with blood. He held his left arm against his side like it pained him. A hole in the sleeve of his shirt confirmed her suspicions he’d been shot.
Unlike the cocksure way he’d appeared when she’d previously seen him, he now looked old, haggard, and worried. Something about him, something she couldn’t quite grasp in her mind, seemed oddly familiar.
Unsettled and scared, she covertly glanced around to see what she could use as a weapon. All of her garden tools were safely stowed away because of the children’s visit. The outlaw stood between her and the gate. She had no doubt if she made a run for the house, he’d easily beat her to the steps.
Briefly, she considered climbing the cottonwood tree, but a man like Hugh Allen would have no problem shooting her out of it. Besides that, the dress she was wearing wouldn’t exactly make the task one she could undertake with any degree of haste.
“What is it you think I have that you want?” she asked.
“Maps,” he said, taking another step closer. “I ran into Eugene Sutler a while back and he told me he had maps of gold mines no one even knew about. Said he kept them with the weather maps. I looked all over that weather station and didn’t find a thing, except for a nice chunk of ore. That paperweight of yers put six hundred dollars in my pocket.”
Delilah wasn’t surprised. Her father had said the ore was valuable.
“Eugene swore up and down he had maps, but I think the man was puffin’ smoke. Even as he bled out, he kept promisin’ to find the maps if I’d just let him live.” The man gave her a long look. “Maps or no maps, yer gonna take me to where ya found that ore.”
“How do you know I found it?” Delilah asked, backing toward a piece of statuary. If she grabbed it and swung it at the outlaw’s head, it might stun him long enough for her to escape. Before she could put her plan into action, a growling noise drew her attention to where Oliver crept down the porch steps, teeth bared and fur standing on end.
“Ollie, stay back!” she yelled to the raccoon.
Hugh Allen took a look at the raccoon, pulled a pistol from his holster and cocked it, then seemed to think better of firing it. “If I shoot ya or that rabid beast of yers, everyone in town will come runnin’. Stop wastin’ time. I know ya found that ore because I saw ya packin’ it into the weather station and heard ya tellin’ yer pa ya found it on a walk.”
Appalled the man had been spying on them, lurking in the shadows and watching them, she was grateful he’d not done anything to harm her father. In fact, at the moment, she was so grateful Papa’s injury had kept him in Washington, D.C. a few weeks longer than he’d anticipated. With the month of May quickly passing, he’d sent a message yesterday he planned to be home by the first of June.
At least with him gone, she had no worries about a deranged killer doing her beloved father mortal harm.
“If you know all that, why didn’t you just follow my tracks the day I found it?”
The man scowled. “Because, ya fool girl, trackin’ ain’t my strong point.” He waved the gun at her. “Get movin’. I ain’t got all day. And if I’m lucky, your beau will come after you and I can finish him off, too.”
“I don’t have a beau.”
The man snorted derisively. “That’s right. Ya appear to have two, but the one I’m interested in killin’ has been on my tail the last few days. Takin’ ya ought to sap enough wind outta his sails to be able to finish him fer good.”
Delilah wanted to slap the man across the face. At the very least, kick his shins a few times. She couldn’t wrestle the gun away from him. Even with a wounded arm, he was tall, broad, and at least seventy-five if not a hundred pounds heavier. She considered running away from him once they stepped outside the gate, but he’d most likely shoot her in the back. Perhaps she could lead him into the woods and lose him there then make her way back to the sheriff’s office. Seth would be there, or least she hoped he would.
“Fine. I’ll take you,” she said, walking toward the gate. As she made her way past him, he reached out and grabbed her arm.
“Don’t ya try anythin’, or ya’ll end up as dead as Sutler.”
She glared at his hand on her arm, refusing to allow the terror welling within her to show. Fear burned like hot acid up her throat, but she swallowed it and gave him a disparaging glare. “Unhand me this instant.”
He grinned, showing brown teeth and releasing a malodorous stench that nearly made her gag. “Uppity lil’ thing, ain’t ya.”
Ignoring his comment, she pushed open the gate and moved out to the street, making sure to step in every muddy spot she could find. The outlaw kept step right behind her and she could feel the end of his pistol shoved against her spine. What if the stupid man tripped or accidentally set it off? Most likely, he planned to kill her regardless of what she did. She kept her feet moving forward with her back straight and chin up as she walked out of town heading south.
Once the river wound past Ian and Maggie’s place, it snaked through a thick grove of trees before it went around a craggy bend then flowed across the sage-dotted desert hills leading to Thane and Jemma’s place.
Delilah decided if all else failed, she could make it to the ranch. The cowboys there would make short work of Hugh Allen and keep her safe. With determined steps, she stayed close to the river, making sure they walked in the mud, leaving footprints in their wake.
Cautiously, she glanced behind her, pleased to see Hugh Allen hadn’t changed his footwear. Each step he took left an imprint in the mud with a star in the heel.
“How far is it?” the outlaw asked, sounding slightly winded.
Good. Delilah hoped he’d pass out soon and slightly increased her pace. “I think it was about a mile or so,” she said and continued to stick to a path near the river. No one was around although the trail was out in the open where they could be spotted.
Perhaps the outlaw was too wounded to think straight or maybe just too tired to care. Either way, he quietly followed her.
Delilah had only a hazy memory of where she’d picked up the piece of ore. It had been a week or so after she and Papa had arrived in town. She’d gone for a walk in the woods, looking up in the trees and watching the birds, not where she was going. After an hour or so, she’d sat on a fallen log and taken out her sketchbook. It wasn’t until she’d dropped her pencil and bent to retrieve it that she’d noticed the piece of ore, partly hidden beneath scattered leaves that hadn’t blown away in winter’s stout breezes. She wasn’t even sure at the time if the shiny substance was gold or pyrite, but her father had assured her it was gold.
He’d offered to have the ore processed for her, but she’d grinned and told him to keep it with his other treasures of nature. They both assumed a miner had been traipsing through the woods and accidentally dropped it. From what she knew of mines and gold, there wasn’t anywhere close to where she found it that could be a mine.
It wasn’t the loss of money that bothered her about Hugh Allen taking it, although that was certainly a consideration. It was the fact he’d taken a gift she’d given her papa and violated their office to do it.
The outlaw’s breath wheezed from his chest as they started up a slight incline. Delilah increased her speed.
“Not so fast, missy.” The tip of the pistol dug into the skin between her shoulder blades. “I’m in a hurry, but ya can keep a decent pace.”
Delilah didn’t answer, but slowed her steps. She wondered if she could possibly shove him hard enough he’d fall into the river. With her luck, he’d tug her in, too, and she’d drown with her layers of skirts and petticoats weighing her down.
She glanced back and noticed sweat beading the man’s forehead and across his upper lip despite the cooling temperatures. The fluffy white clouds that had filled the sky earlier that morning had given way to cumulonimbus clouds that almost always accompanied a thunderstorm.
Out in the open with nowhere to get out of the weather wasn’t her ideal way to endure a storm, particularly if lightning happened to strike.
Due to the slow pace the criminal insisted on keeping, Delilah realized they hadn’t made it far from town. In fact, at this rate, it would take hours to reach the Jordan Ranch. She wondered if she could perhaps somehow circle back around and go to the lumberyard for help.
Then again, she didn’t want to endanger her friends. There had to be a way to escape from Hugh Allen and alert someone to his presence.
Delilah feigned weariness and stumbled to the bank of the river where a thicket of cottonwood trees offered shade and shelter.
“Please, may we rest a moment?” she asked, doing her best to sound exhausted.
“Just one,” he said in a tone that sounded increasingly weak.
He plopped down beneath one of the trees, leaned against the trunk, and closed his eyes.
Delilah remained standing, looking around for a weapon or a means of escape. The sound of the man’s laborious breathing made her question if he had more injuries than just the one to his arm.
The cock of the hammer on his pistol pulled her attention back to the outlaw. “Try anythin’, and I’ll shoot ya dead.”
Convinced he would kill her without even blinking, she sat on a tree stump and pretended to look at the water while she intently studied her surroundings. A slight chattering noise drew her gaze overhead and she watched as a raccoon scurried across tree limbs until he was in the tree directly above the outlaw.
If she didn’t know better, Delilah would have said it was Oliver. Surely he wouldn’t follow her all the way out here, would he? If it was Ollie, the poor little creature would most likely get himself killed if he did anything to the despicable man holding her hostage.
Delilah continued watching the raccoon and pondering the best means of escape. A twig snapped behind Hugh. The outlaw was instantly on his feet, pulling her against him and shoving his gun against her temple.
“Figured it was about time for you to catch up with us,” Hugh Allen said, as he turned and faced a dusty figure wearing a long duster with a gleaming badge pinned to his chest. “Howdy, son.”