Chapter Six
Jim knew he wasn't a physically strong man. The fight last night had proven that to him yet another time, but through the years, what he'd lacked in physical strength, he'd made up for by outsmarting those he came up against. He'd been successful in his banking career, and he'd always believed he had the intelligence and strength of character to make the best of any difficult situation that might befall him.
That was until now.
The prospect of having Stacy at his house with him for the next few days was like his wildest dream coming true, but it was also going to put his inner strength to the test. Not to mention the fact that he was indebted to Chet now for helping to save his life and she was engaged to the rancher.
Yet despite the dilemma he found himself in, Jim had to smile. If being in the fight was what it had taken to get a chance to spend time alone with Stacy, it had been worth it.
"You're smiling," Stacy remarked, coming to stand in the parlor doorway to look at him lying on the sofa. "You must be feeling better."
The strain of just making the short trip from Roni's office to his home had left him pale and a bit shaken, and Roni had insisted that he rest and not try to move around too much for the remainder of the day. Stacy was glad to see he was following doctor's orders so far.
"I am," Jim told her. "You're here."
She laughed, believing he was teasing her. "Are you getting hungry? I thought I'd start fixing dinner soon."
She hoped he'd get his appetite back, for he'd barely eaten anything that day. Roni had told her that a head injury could sometimes cause nausea and loss of appetite.
"You know, I am getting a little hungry."
"Good. Do you feel up to sitting in the kitchen with me and keeping me company while I cook?"
"Sure." He started to try to stand.
"Here—let me help you."
Stacy went to his side and slipped a supportive arm about his lean waist as he got to his feet.
Jim enjoyed her sweet scent and the warmth of her body pressed against him as they made their way slowly from the parlor. He almost wished it was a longer walk to the kitchen.
"Roni said she'd be coming by a little later to look in on you again, so maybe she'll stay and eat with us."
"That would be good. I didn't get much of a chance to thank her for taking care of me the way she did."
"We're blessed to have her, that's for sure. After her father died, I wondered if we'd ever get another doc in town."
They moved into the kitchen and Jim sat at the table while Stacy began to prepare the meal.
It was late afternoon when Mick and the other ranch hands who'd spent the night in town made it back to the Thompson ranch. Mick left his horse down at the stable and went up to the house to let Ben know they'd returned.
"Where's the boss?" he asked Maria, the housekeeper, when she came to the door to let him in.
Maria gave him a strange look. "He's not here. I thought he stayed in town with you."
"No, he rode out last night. He said he was coming home then."
"He never showed up. I haven't seen him."
Mick frowned. Hungover as he was, the last thing he felt like doing was riding out again, but he had no choice. "Something must have gone wrong. We'd better go look for him."
He went back down to the stable to give the other men the news. They weren't happy, but mounted up again and split into groups to search for their missing boss. They figured Ben's horse had thrown a shoe or gone lame, and Ben was trying to make his way back to the ranch on foot.
Mick and a ranch hand named Al had been combing the land for hours, looking for some sign of their boss, when they heard the sound of gunfire in the distance. Mitch knew that was a signal that some of the other hands had found Ben, and he breathed a sigh of relief. It had been a long day.
They rode in the direction of the shots, but what they found when they reached the others shocked them.
"The boss is dead!" one of the men yelled when he saw them coming.
"He didn't have a chance! Whoever did this shot him down in cold blood!" another added.
Mick reined in and quickly dismounted to check on Ben. He was cursing under his breath when he stood up. It was obvious Ben had been asleep when he'd been killed.
Mick looked at the other men. "We still got some hours of daylight left. Spread out and take a look around. See if you can find anything that'll give us a clue who did this."
"We already know who did it!" one of the other men charged. "It was the half-breed!"
"It had to be! He threatened the boss at the dance! We all heard him!"
Mick thought they were right. "All right. Let's get Ben into town. We gotta let the sheriff know what happened."
They loaded up Ben's body and started the trek to town to notify the sheriff.
It was Sunday evening, and things usually stayed pretty quiet around town, so when Sheriff Protzel heard the commotion outside in the street, he got up from his desk to see what was going on. He walked out of the office to find Mick and several of the other men from the Thompson ranch tying up their horses out front. Strapped on the back of one of the horses was a dead body.
"Who is it? What happened?" the lawman asked, immediately going to grab the reins of the horse carrying the dead man.
"It's Ben, Sheriff!" Mick told him. "When he didn't make it back to the ranch today, we went looking for him. We found him at a campsite—shot dead."
Sheriff Protzel's expression grew even more grim as he inspected the body and saw how Ben had been shot.
"And none of you saw or heard anything?"
"No. We stayed in town all night. Ben went home on his own after the dance, but he never made it back to the ranch. We went looking for him today and found him at his campsite. Whoever did this shot him in cold blood while he was sleeping."
"And we know who did it!" one of the ranch hands told him.
"Yeah. It had to be Walker Stevenson! He's the one Ben fought with at the dance," another man put it.
"Did you find any evidence that it was Walker?" the lawman demanded.
"Ben's dead—what more evidence do you need?" Mick challenged.
"It was the half-breed. We all know it!" another ranch hand added.
"Yeah," Mick said, his tone threatening. "And if you don't arrest him, we'll take care of him ourselves."
"Now, slow down there, boys," the sheriff cautioned them, resting his hand on his gun to let them know he meant business.
"No, you listen to us, Sheriff. That half-breed is a murderer! He killed Ben just as sure as we're standing here."
"Get Ben over to the undertaker's," Sheriff Protzel ordered, "and then come back here to the office. I don't want any of you running off doing something crazy. I'm the law in this town, and don't you forget it." His tone was harsh and his meaning unmistakable.
The men were grumbling as they backed down for the time being and did what the lawman ordered. They were willing to follow his direction for now, but if he didn't go after Walker, they would.
Sheriff Protzel watched them move away and then went straight over to Deputy Davis's house.
"We've got trouble," Protzel told his deputy when he came to the door.
"What is it?" Deputy Davis asked.
The sheriff told him what he knew.
"That fight at the dance was ugly," the deputy told him, "but Ben started the whole thing."
"I don't trust Thompson's men. They're a wild enough bunch to try just about anything. We'd better ride out and bring Walker in right now before things get out of hand. I wouldn't put it past them to try to lynch him."
"Let's get some more men to ride with us, just in case the Thompson boys do start some trouble."
Deputy Davis grabbed his gun belt and strapped it on before leaving the house.
A short time later, they were riding out to the Dollar, and three newly appointed deputies were accompanying them.
In town, Mick and the other men from the ranch awaited their return.
Walker had just been ready to call it a night when he heard riders coming in. It was highly unusual for anyone to show up this late, so he went outside to see who it was. He was puzzled to find Sheriff Protzel and several of his deputies riding up to the house.
"'Evening, Sheriff." Walker greeted him cordially, going forward to speak with the men as they reined in. "Is something wrong?"
Sheriff Protzel dismounted, as did his deputies. His expression was serious as he faced Walker. "Walker, I need to talk with you—privately. There's been some trouble."
Walker realized something terrible must have happened as he looked from the lawman to his deputies, and he immediately worried that it had something to do with Stacy. "What is it? Is Stacy all right?"
The lawman knew no way of making this easy. "Can we go inside and talk?"
"Come in." Walker led the way into the house.
Before following Walker inside, Sheriff Protzel paused and looked at his men, who were more than ready to come with him just in case there was trouble. "Wait out here. I won't be long."
Walker moved into the parlor to face the lawman, unsure of what was to come. "What's happened?"
"Ben Thompson is dead," the Sheriff said bluntly, and he watched Walker carefully, wanting to judge his reaction to the news.
"What?" Walker exclaimed in a shocked tone.
Sheriff Protzel was glad to see Walker looked honestly surprised by the news. "He didn't show up back at his ranch, so some of his boys went looking for him. They found him murdered at his campsite."
"What's this got to do with me?"
"I'm afraid I have to take you in."
"I don't understand." Of all the things Walker had thought he was going to say, this was the furthest from his mind. "You think I killed him?"
"Look, you two were involved in a fight at the dance and you did threaten him."
"I didn't do it,"Walker protested."I was in town last night. You can ask Stacy or Jim or even Roni. They'll tell you. I had a room at the hotel. I spent the night there."
"I'll check into that, but for now, I'm taking you in."
"If you're going to be arresting anybody, you should be arresting Ben's men," Walker argued angrily. "Ben and I did have a fight at the dance, all right, but later, Ben and some of his boys jumped Jim and me by the hotel. Jim spent the night in the doctor's office, he was beat up so bad."
"Walker, that just makes things look even worse for you," Sheriff Protzel told him.
"I didn't kill him," he repeated.
"I want to believe you, but until I get this sorted out, I'm going to keep you in custody. Ben's men are just waiting for the chance to lynch you, and I'm not going to let that happen. So, let's go."
Walker was disgusted, but he knew Sheriff Protzel was a fair and honest man. He knew it would be for the best if he went along without a fight.
"I need to tell my men what's going on," he said.
He'd just started outside when he saw his foreman, Zach Foster, being kept away from the house by the deputies.
"Walker, is everything all right?" Zach called out. He and the other ranch hands had seen the lawmen ride in.
"You can let him go," Sheriff Protzel ordered his deputies.
Zach hurried up to the house, and Walker quickly explained.
"You're arresting Walker for Ben's murder?" Zach looked at the lawman, unable to believe what he was hearing.
"That's right. Now, why don't you go get his horse saddled up for him? We need to get back to town."
Zach looked at Walker. He knew with the help of the other hands they could outgun the sheriff and his deputies, but ultimately that kind of a confrontation would only make things worse.
"It's all right," Walker told him, not wanting any trouble.
Zach went out to the stable and returned a short time later leading Walker's horse. He handed the reins over to him. "What do you want us to do, Boss?"
"Let Stacy know what's happened. She's staying in town with Roni."
"I'll get word to her right away," he promised.
Sheriff Protzel and his deputies kept a careful lookout on the ride back to town. They didn't trust Ben's men not to try something, and they were glad when the trip proved uneventful.
It was after midnight when they finally reached the sheriff's office. But despite the lateness of the hour, Mick and the others were still there, waiting out front for them.
And one of them had a rope.
"So, he didn't try to run from you, eh, Sheriff?" Mick said as he and the others closed in around the lawmen as they dismounted.
"Get out of here—all of you." The sheriff drew his gun to make sure the situation didn't get out of control, and he was glad the troublemakers had enough sense to back away. "Walker's my prisoner."
"I like the way that sounds—'prisoner.'" Mick watched as the deputies escorted Walker into the jail.
"Did you hear me, Mick? I said, take your boys and get out of here!" Sheriff Protzel repeated, gun still in hand. He stayed outside on guard, watching them carefully until they moved off. Only when he was certain they were gone did he follow Walker and his deputies inside, closing the door securely behind him.
"What do you want us to do?" Deputy Davis asked.
"Lock him up in back, and then all of you go check around town and keep a lookout for Mick and the others. I don't trust them not to try something tonight."
The deputy took Walker back to a jail cell.
"Make yourself comfortable," he said as he locked him in. "You're going to be here awhile."
He knew the sheriff had his doubts about Walker's guilt, but Deputy Davis had been at the dance and had witnessed Walker's confrontation with Ben firsthand. There was no doubt there had been bad blood between the two of them, and threats had been made.