Chapter Six
“Parker believes the men in these posters are related to Chet Penderville, one of the robbers killed during the bank holdup.” Cash had waited to show Gabe the posters until he’d gone through the older ones in the desk. He’d found nothing on the men killed in the attempted bank robbery.
Gabe studied the images of Milton and Harrison, noting the resemblance. He, Cash, and Beau sat in the jail, talking as the sun began to set over the nearby mountains. Other than the saloon, hotel, and restaurants, most businesses would be closing within the hour.
“I agree with him.” Gabe pointed to the name of their home state of Virginia. “Wasn’t Chet from there?”
“Near Lynchburg. From what we learned, he and the others in the gang fought for the South.” Beau scratched the stubble on his face. “Parker have any more to go on than the posters and his gut feelings?”
“Nope.” Cash returned to his chair, leaning back and crossing his arms. “We could talk to Luke and ask him to use his Pinkerton connections to do more digging.”
Luke Pelletier had been a Pinkerton agent for a while before meeting and marrying Ginny. According to Dax, he still had a solid relationship with Allan Pinkerton, the founder of the well-known detective agency.
“I’ll ride out to their ranch and talk to him. For now, we need to assume they are related to Chet and planning to avenge his death.” Gabe buckled his gun belt around his waist, then checked his revolver. “Cash, notify Horace Clausen about these two and show him and his employees the posters. Did Parker have any idea where they were last seen?”
“I don’t believe he’s heard any more since his friend in the Dakota Territory sent the telegram. That would be about two weeks ago. I’ll send him a message, ask if he’s learned more.” Cash started to follow Gabe to the door when it flew open, almost slamming into Gabe’s face.
“Sheriff, glad I found you. You’ve got to come right away.” Stan Petermann’s face glistened with sweat, his voice shaking.
“Calm down and tell me what’s happening.” Gabe nodded toward a chair.
“There’s no time, Gabe. Clay McCord is trying to talk young Ben out of shooting, but the kid has this wild look. You need to come with me.” Stan took off with Gabe, Cash, and Beau right behind him.
The general store was on the same side of Main Street, three doors down. As they approached, the sounds of shouting came from inside. Gabe reached out and grabbed Stan by the collar when the man continued to surge ahead.
“Get back behind Beau and stay back. We’ll take over from here.”
“All right, Sheriff, but I think Ben is serious about shooting Clay if he doesn’t get what he wants.”
“And what does he want, Stan?” Cash stood beside him, his gun drawn.
“Food.”
All three lawmen muttered curses at the same time the shouting from inside stopped.
“No gunfire. Maybe Clay is talking some sense into the kid. Beau, stay out here with Stan. Cash, you come with me.”
Staying close to the side of the building, they inched forward until Gabe could see inside the store.
“Who is Clay McCord?” Cash asked as he knelt, Gabe looking through the dirt-encrusted window.
“Stan’s employee. Rode into town while you were gone.” Gabe moved to get a better view. “Clay is talking to the boy. The kid has a gun, but it’s by his side.” He motioned to Cash, speaking in a hushed voice. “Let’s move to the door. We need to be ready if he lifts the gun.” They took positions a few feet away, listening to the conversation.
“What’s your name, kid?”
“Benjamin. Most people call me Ben.”
“Trust me, Ben. You don’t want to use that gun.” Clay moved a step closer, holding out his hand. “If you’re hungry, I’m certain we can work something out with Mr. Petermann. He’s a good man, and—”
“I don’t believe you.” Ben’s voice trembled, his body shaking as he spoke. “My sister came in yesterday, asking for some help until we could get the money for food. He said he didn’t provide charity.” He swiped a hand across his face to stop the tears. “I got some stuff of my pa’s we can sell.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a worn pocket watch, an old pair of spectacles, and a ring. “This here’s his wedding ring. It ought to be worth something, right, mister?”
Gabe watched as Clay took another step closer, crouching low and looking at what he held out.
“That’s a real fine ring. And I’ll bet no one in town has a watch like that one.” He smiled, seeing him nod. “Tell you what, Ben. I’ll take the watch and spectacles, but you keep the ring. You might find you need it one day.” Clay stood, taking some coins out of his pocket. “Will this be enough?”
The boy’s eyes widened as he counted what Clay held out. “Yes, sir.”
Clay slid the money into Ben’s outstretched hand, shaking his head when the boy took one last look at the watch and spectacles.
“You could do me a big favor, Ben. I don’t have a true home right now and it would be a real shame to lose these fine items. Would you mind keeping them for me until I get a place where I can keep them?”
“Yes, sir. I can do that.” His shoulders relaxed as he slid his pa’s belongings into a pocket. “Do you think I have enough for flour, sugar, beans, and some bacon?”
“I can guarantee you do.” Clay walked around the store, picking up what Ben needed, setting the items on the counter before giving him a price. “Looks like you may have a little left over for the next time.”
Ben turned and ran toward the door, picked up a worn war bag, and tossed it on the counter. Clay stuffed the items inside, then handed it back.
“I’ll bet your ma and pa will be real proud when you come home with this.”
Ben’s face went still. “It’s just me and my sister.”
Clay walked around the counter, looking down at Ben. “You come in here anytime and we’ll work something out with Mr. Petermann. If you need anything, my name’s Clay McCord and I’m staying at the boardinghouse.”
“Yes, sir.” Slinging the old war bag over his shoulder, Ben started for the door.
“And Ben?”
“Yes, sir?”
“You be mighty careful with that gun. Most people don’t take too kindly to having it pointed at them.”
Ben chewed his bottom lip, nodded, then took off outside. Breaking into a run a few yards from the store, he never noticed Gabe and Cash standing a few feet away.
Sliding the gun into his holster, Cash took a breath before he and Gabe stepped into the store.
“Gentlemen. What can I do for you?” Clay folded his arms, resting a hip against the counter. He recognized the sheriff, but not the man with him.
“That was quite a job getting Ben to put away his gun.”
“He just needed a push in the right direction, Sheriff.”
“Still, it was mighty generous of you. Clay, this is my other deputy, Cash Coulter.”
The men shook hands, sizing each other up, as Beau and Stan walked inside.
“Why didn’t you arrest that boy, Sheriff?” Stan’s face reddened when he saw Clay standing by the counter. “You didn’t give him any food, did you?”
“No, sir. Ben paid me for what he needed.” Although congenial, Clay’s voice held a trace of disgust. “I don’t suppose you’d consider giving Ben and his sister a little credit? Seems they could use a little help to get on their feet.”
Stan paced to the counter, then turned abruptly toward the front door. “Those two have all the credit I can give them. Their pa ran up a bill of fifteen dollars before he took off without a word to anyone.”
Clay cocked his head. “Ben told me his ma and pa are dead.”
“Ma’s been dead a while. Their pa couldn’t deal with losing her and raising two children, so he left about the time you came to town. I feel for them, but I can’t provide food to everyone on credit.” Stan’s arms hung at his sides, his shoulders slumping. “Wish I could, but I have to draw the line somewhere.”
“Where do they live? Does the sister work?” Clay understood Stan’s situation. Still, he believed there had to be a solution.
Gabe stepped forward. “There’s a rundown shack about a mile north of town. Ben and his sister, Rosemary, live there, along with a couple other kids who’ve lost their parents. We’ve tried to find places for them, but most families aren’t doing well enough to take on extra children. Plus, the sister is a little older.”
“Older?” Clay’s eyes narrowed.
“Ben is nine. Rosemary is eighteen, maybe nineteen.” Gabe scrubbed a hand down his face. “Suzanne Briar has Rosemary help clean the boardinghouse, same as Ginny Pelletier used to do before she married Luke. It’s not much, but I know Suzanne gives her leftover food a couple times a week. The reverend and his wife are trying to set up a fund for children who’ve lost their parents, but it’s going slow. Nick is planning to offer her a cleaning job when business picks up at the hotel.”
At the sound of shouting from across the street, Cash walked toward the front window, glancing out. “Well, damn.” He glanced at Gabe. “Looks like the miners got paid and are already starting a ruckus at the Dixie.”
“I’ll head over there while you and Beau make the rounds. Stop by for a drink when you’re done.” Gabe nodded at Stan and Clay before leaving.
“If all is good here, we’ll take off, Stan. Good to meet you, Clay.”
Clay nodded, his mind focused on Ben, his sister, and the other children who were barely able to survive.
Cash and Beau split up. Cash headed toward the bank at the south end of town, still needing to warn Horace about the gang of robbers who might be headed toward Splendor. Beau took the other side of the street. They’d check the businesses before joining Gabe for a drink, take one more tour around town, then bed down for the night.
The bank had closed by the time Cash arrived. Pulling out his pocket watch, he considered riding to Horace’s place a little ways from town.
“Mr. Coulter. How are you this evening?”
Cash turned at the familiar voice to see Alison locking her shop door, then strolling toward him. The now familiar sense of desire rolled through his body as she stopped next to him.
“Alison, I told you to call me Cash, remember? I’m doing fine. Where are you off to?” His gaze wandered over her before settling on her face.
“Mr. Petermann and I have a deal. If he’s had fabric in his store for a few months without selling it, I buy it from him at a fair price, then make it into dresses.”
“An enterprising woman. I like that.”
She flushed at the compliment, then glanced at the bank. “I saw Mr. Clausen walk past my store to his carriage a little while ago. Did you need to see him?”
“Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. I’ll walk with you to the store.”
Although it wasn’t far, Alison enjoyed the company, as well as the opportunity to ask some questions.
“I heard there was a bank robbery in town a few months ago. Were you here when it happened?”
“Yes.”
“It must have been horrible. I mean, all that bloodshed.” She worked to keep her voice calm, anxious to get the answers she needed.
“Dealing with outlaws is never easy. This time was no different.”
“I heard several of the robbers were killed.”
Cash stopped outside the general store, his lips thinning as he thought of that day. The memory wasn’t pleasant.
“Yes, they were.” He looked up to see Stan and Clay still inside. “Looks like Petermann is waiting for you. Have a pleasant night, Alison.” Taking a few quick strides, he turned back toward her, reining in his irritation. “I’ll see you Saturday.”
Her heart sank at his abrupt departure and hard voice. She’d pushed too far, too soon, hoping to get some information about that day, how it happened, and the robbers involved. Cash, as a deputy and possible friend, seemed to be the best person to ask. It was clear he didn’t wish to speak of the robbers or their deaths.
Before leaving Kentucky, Alison and her mother had argued about what she’d ask once she arrived in Splendor. Her mother urged caution, telling her not to draw too much attention to herself, or mention her connection to Bobby. It would do no good to storm into town and make allegations before getting the facts. Her mother believed the same as Alison—Bobby would never have taken up with a gang of robbers, let alone drawn a gun on innocent people. Somehow, he’d been gunned down by mistake or in anger. Or it was just a cold-blooded killing. Alison took a deep breath, reminding herself to take it slow.
“You have a pleasant night also, Cash.” She stepped inside when Stan opened the door, taking one last look over her shoulder as Cash walked away.
“You sure have been staring into your whiskey a long time, Cash. Do you plan on drinking it?” Beau tossed his drink back, then signaled for Paul to pour another. He’d been the bartender at the Dixie since it opened, knowing enough to keep the drinks flowing until Gabe or Nick cut someone off. Paul saw no need to hesitate when the sheriff leaned against the bar on the other side of Beau.
“Got some things on my mind.” Cash closed his eyes, remembering a woman from his past. A girl he’d known since childhood and loved as he became a man.
He’d been young and foolish. They’d exchanged promises before he joined the Confederacy. As two years of brutal warfare passed, all that kept him sane were thoughts of her waiting for his return. Then the letter arrived, announcing her plans to marry another. A merchant who’d chosen to sit out the war and grow fat, taking advantage of the profits to be made from supplying armies on both sides. The last Cash heard, he’d been shot by Confederates as a spy, his wife stripped of their home and wealth, the man she’d chosen over him mired in scandal.
Opening his eyes, he picked up the glass, finishing the drink in one swallow.
“Another?” Paul stood on the other side of the bar, the bottle ready.
“Not tonight.” Cash turned toward Gabe and Beau. “I’m going to make one more round, then turn in. Guess the last few weeks are catching up with me.”
He didn’t wait for a response. Pushing open the swinging doors, he stepped into the chilled night air, taking a deep breath, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. Two doors down, the St. James Hotel shown bright in the cloudless sky. Gabe had been smart to partner with Nick and Lena in building the grand structure. They still had a few pictures to hang and furniture to buy, but it had done well since opening a month earlier.
Crossing the street, he headed straight toward Alison’s shop. He could see the pale glow of light in the upstairs window where she made her home. Pulling on the front door of the shop to confirm she’d locked it, he stepped back and looked up, hearing the faint sound of someone humming. It tugged at him in a way he didn’t expect and didn’t want to admit. He had no plans to marry. From his point of view, the world wasn’t a place to give your trust to one woman, and it certainly wasn’t a safe place to raise children. Besides, he had little to offer, other than a blackened heart.
The smart move would be to stop by tomorrow, cancel their plans for supper on Saturday, and get back to the life he’d started before leaving Splendor for Stephen’s ranch. Forming an attachment to any woman would lead to nothing except grief and despair. Learning to trust one was out of the question.
Turning, he walked past the bank, another restaurant, the general store, and a couple other closed shops before entering the jail. He’d down a cup of stale, bitter coffee, then take the short walk home to swallow what remained in his bottle of whiskey, and pray for a night of peace.