“Mr. Tucker,” Mitch began, “my wife has received offers to buy her land. Anonymous offers, persistent ones, a little threatening even. Do you have any information you are at liberty to share? Why would anyone want her ranch?”
“This information is not secret. It has been published in newspapers around the state, but not in local ones.” He pointed at a long line of hatched marks on the map. “This is the railroad that currently exists. Runs up the central part of the state all the way from Sacramento. There’s been talk, speculation you might say, about when the railroad would expand toward the coast and where that expansion would begin. Ultimately, the railroad will have rails traveling the entire western coast. Already the rails reach San Francisco. Some think the western spur will go to Portland at the northern end of the state while others believe it will be at the southern end of Oregon. It would be a shorter distance, you see, to connect to San Francisco that way.” He tapped a long finger on the counter.
“What’s your guess?” Mitch enquired.
“Three months ago, representatives of the railroad were here in Oakville. They’d been sent to scout out the lower Oregon route. The mayor was mighty attentive. Had the men to dinner more than once, wined and dined them,” he said.
Mitch and Melody’s eyes met in a blaze. Three months was about the time her brother had been targeted for ruin.
“Where is the proposed southern route?” Mitch asked.
“It runs through Abel Stone’s ranch, the Bar W, and the land once owned by Chester Smith.” Jonas Tucker ran his finger through the three properties.
“Do you know who purchased the Smith ranch?” Melody spoke for the first time.
“I do, and it is a matter of public record. The mayor owns it.” He paused, pursed his lips and tapped his pencil on the map. “If you are being pressured to sell, I would say the mayor is behind it. I probably shouldn’t say so, but he’s been mighty underhanded keeping the news of the possible acquisition out of the papers and not publishing records of sale. If the railroad chooses this southern route, your land will triple in value.”
Mitch whistled low and long.
“Exactly,” the land agent said.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Tucker.” Mitch shook hands with the man and tipped his hat toward the door.
Mitch offered his elbow once more and once more Melody refused to acknowledge the gesture. He lifted his shoulders and let them fall.
“That was mighty informative,” Mitch placed his hands on his hips and gazed at Melody. “Let’s go get some dinner.”
She nodded. Her bottom hurt something fierce. Riding to town had reignited the painful spanking. Dinner might restore her spirits, and she could rest on her hip. A welcome relief from protecting her backside from the bounce of a horse or the irritation of heavy fabric grating across inflamed skin.
They took a table by the window, and a waitress hustled over to help them.
“Special today is meatloaf, mashed potatoes, corn, apple pie, and coffee.” She informed them.
“Sounds good,” Mitch stated. “Melody?”
“I’ll have the same,” she replied.
They ate in silence; the only noise the creaking of Melody’s chair as she shifted from hip to hip. Her hands trembled, and her fork waved over her food like tall grass in a stiff breeze. Mitch reached over to cover her shaking hand with his own, and she dropped her fork with a resounding clank onto her rose patterned plate. Her hands darted under the table; her eyes flew to his face.
The lines of Mitch’s frown formed deep groves around the straight line of his mouth. “What’s the matter, Melody? Are you upset about the spanking?” he asked. “I admit it was harsher than I’d intended.”
Melody used the sides of the chair to reposition her aching bottom.
Mitch grimaced.
“I’d like to have a few words with Candy. I’ll order you another cup of coffee. I don’t plan to be gone long.” Mitch motioned to the waitress. When Melody’s cup brimmed with the hot beverage, he rose from the table. “Stay here,” he ordered.
When Mitch disappeared through the café door, their waitress picked up a pillow from the window seat and handed it to Melody with a conspiratorial smile.
“Thank you.” She slipped it under her bottom. So, everyone knew she’d been spanked. Her eyes filled with tears of anger, humiliation, embarrassment. Her emotions were a whirlwind of swirling confusion. Her head ached; her bottom throbbed; fatigue sapped her strength. The pillow, well meant as it was, provided only a modicum of relief. A tear rolled down her cheek and splashed onto the table. She wiped at her face with her napkin and took deep, calming breaths.
Mitch returned and sank into his chair. He raised an eyebrow at the pillow and studied her with troubled eyes.
“Did you see Candy?” Melody asked.
“I did.” Mitch motioned to the waitress and held his cup up in silent request. He blew on his coffee before attempting a sip. “She didn’t know anything more about your brother.” Leaning back in his chair, he took another sip. “Shortly after I talked to her the other day, she was working in the saloon and a man approached her, asked if she was Candy Malone. She said she was. Well, the man claimed to be a friend of her father’s. Said he remembered her from when she was a little tyke.”
“Does she know him?”
“The fella said she’d been too young to remember him. He was mighty sad to hear about her folks, and the betrayal of her uncle. Claims that he always knew her uncle was a no-good son-of-a,” Mitch paused. “Well, no good. He told Candy he plans to find a way to get her free of Madame T and the Gilded Garter.” Mitch gazed, unseeing, at a spot over her left shoulder. “Could be true, I suppose. Timing seems a might odd. Candy, of course, is hopeful and excited.”
“My brother meant to get her out of there, too. He might be exactly who he says he is,” Melody offered.
“Could be,” Mitch agreed. “Could be I’m seeing shadows where there aren’t any. Railroad lines, your brother’s murder, Candy’s new friend, the mayor – I can’t seem to fit the puzzle together.” He rose and pulled Melody’s chair from the table. “We need to place the order at the Mercantile before heading for Journey’s End. I don’t mind saying I’m looking forward to getting home.”
The bell jangled as they entered the store, and Mitch directed his steps to the counter.
“Can I help you?” the clerk asked.
“I have a list of supplies for the Bar W. Thomas will send a man in to pick this up tomorrow, but I’d like to go over it with you. Be sure all the supplies are available.” Mitch and the clerk bent their heads over the list.
Melody wandered the store. New fabrics lined the back wall, and she studied them with a practiced eye. A scarlet cotton with wildflowers flung across the material drew her eye, and she rubbed the fabric between her fingers. She’d moved on to a bolt of deepest purple when she was stopped as if struck by lightning, poleaxed by a falling tree, felled by rolling rocks.
The voice. She heard the voice. The one she would never forget. The voice of the man who had beaten her brother and returned two nights later to kill him. Melody turned slowly towards the sound. A rush of dizziness swamped her, and she steadied herself with a hand laid on a shelf.
A bear of a man with blinding white hair stood next to a woman with black hair and wide blue eyes. They discussed the rack of ready-made dresses as they examined and discarded each garment.
“Candy,” the man said, “I believe this one would do. Might be a little big, but you could take it in, I suspect.”
That was Candy? Melody’s hands shook. Her vision blurred, and her heart beat fit to burst from her chest. Her brother’s girl was here with his killer.
“Get away from that man,” Melody shrieked. “You, you,” her voice quaked and quivered, “you killed my brother. I heard you.” She pointed a finger at the blond behemoth.
“What?” Candy uttered. “This is a friend of my father’s.”
Mitch turned from the
counter and approached his bride. “Melody, what’s the matter?”
“That’s him,” she screeched. “Clay’s killer. I don’t know about your father,” Melody pierced Candy with a glare. “Maybe you were in on it. You tricked Clay into thinking you wanted to help him.” A laugh, raw and wild, escaped her lips. “All the while, you played him for a fool. Helped bankrupt the ranch.”
Candy folded an arm protectively around her middle as if suffering a blow. “I loved Clay,” she alleged. Tears left a trail as they traveled down her thin cheeks.
All eyes in the store stared, mesmerized, at the drama unfolding in the middle of the day in their very boring Mercantile. Folks began crowding in the door.
“Settle down, Melody.” Mitch approached her.
“Stay away from me,” she shouted. “Get away.” She pointed a trembling finger at her husband. “That man killed my brother, and I want him arrested.”
The big man spoke. “You can’t arrest a man because you don’t like his voice,” he snorted. “Mister,” he glared at Mitch, “can’t you control your woman? Come on, Candy, let’s get out of here.”
He headed for the door and the little crowd began to part, but Melody rushed forward and threw her body in his path. She raised a fist and shook it in his face.
“I want the sheriff,” she cried. “This man must be arrested for the murder of my brother.”
Mitch tried to intercede, but Melody jerked her arm from his grip. “Don’t touch me. You never listen to me. You only want to sp…” Melody halted, but from the knowing looks and the nods in the crowd, they’d guessed what she’d been about to say. The grins of the men shouted their approval.
“Let me through. Let me through. What’s going on here?” the sheriff shouldered his way into the store.
“Sheriff, that woman accused me of killing her brother. It ain’t true, and she doesn’t have any proof,” the man said.
“He was in our home beating my brother. I heard him. I’d know that voice anywhere. He came back two days later and killed him,” Melody said. “You have to arrest him. Put him in a cell. Hang him,” she shuddered to a stop.
Melody spun into desperation. She felt the prickling disquiet of impending explosion.
The sheriff studied the floor for a piece. “All right. I think you ought to come with me over to the office while we look into these charges.” He gripped the man’s upper arm.
“Now, Sheriff, there ain’t no proof I did anything wrong.” The man struggled to break free.
“Just come along,” the sheriff gave a tug. “I think you best get your wife home, Mr. McBride,” he added. He left with his prisoner in tow.
“Excitement’s over.” Mitch surveyed the crowd. “Let’s go get out horses, Melody.”
Melody stalked toward the Livery with victorious strides. Clay’s killer was behind bars. She exhaled loud and long.
“Howdy,” Mitch called into the barn. “Anyone here?”
“You back already?” the livery worker appeared. “I’ll get your horses saddled. Be just a minute.”
Melody turned a fierce face toward Mitch. “I’m not going back to Journey’s End,” she spat.
“What?” Mitch stumbled over the single word.
“I have money to run the ranch, and Clay’s killer is behind bars,” she declared.
“Melody, the trouble isn’t over yet. The mayor and Madame T are still after your ranch, and your brother’s killer might be arrested, but that’s a far cry from convicted,” Mitch reasoned.
“No more spanking. No more rules. I don’t want to be protected or provided for by you. I’ll get those annulment papers to you as soon as possible,” Melody avowed.
“We agreed to a six-month trial,” Mitch stated.
“It was one of your rules, and I’ll not be bound by them any longer.”
When the liveryman emerged with Socks, Melody swung into the saddle. “I’ll have one of my hands return your horse.”
Holding her bottom away from the saddle, Melody rode with as much dignity as she could muster down the main street of town. She passed the final building and turned her horse’s head east toward the Bar W.
Blinded by tears, she loosened the reins and allowed Socks to find his way. It was for the best, she reasoned with her warring emotions. He could just find himself another woman who didn’t mind rules and instructions and spanking.
Leaving him hurt.
Hurt like hell.
Chapter 11
Mitch and the Livery fella watched as Melody disappeared around the corner and moved out of sight.
“You just lost your woman.” The man pointed a thin finger at Melody’s departing figure. “Maybe if you went after her right quick, you could get her back.”
“Maybe,” Mitch agreed. And maybe she would tell him to go away and stay away or worse. Her temper ran as hot as the Mojave sand in July. Best let it cool, but he didn’t figure she’d seen the last of him. An annulment wasn’t legal until he signed it, and he still had four solid months left to their agreement.
He frowned. She seemed to think some resolution for her brother’s murder had happened today. Mitch knew it hadn’t. The sheriff took that man away to placate her, but the guy was right. The sound of his voice was mighty paltry evidence. The danger from him and the mayor hadn’t passed.
Mitch took a seat on a bench, rested his elbows on his knees and let his hands dangle between his legs. He kept his eyes trained on the door to the sheriff’s office. Half an hour later the door swung open and the big, blond man exited. He glared up and down the street before setting a path toward the Gilded Garter. Mitch sat up straight and tipped his hat back with one finger. Damn. He’d expected as much. The sheriff didn’t have enough evidence to hold the man for the murder of Melody’s brother. Probably didn’t even want to. He’d stamped that case closed when he declared Clay’s death a suicide and wouldn’t want that beehive riled.
He studied on his next move. He could go after Melody and drag her back to Journey’s End. She was his wife. He would be within his rights, but she’d go kicking and screaming. That wouldn’t bode well for getting that happy life he’d imagined.
He could leave her be for the time being and return to Journey’s End without her. He’d miss her, but, more important, he’d worry. Nothing was resolved. The mayor still wanted her land. The man she’d identified as the killer was set free, and he knew she’d recognized him. Melody was in danger. Every protective instinct in his body screamed for him to fetch her home. But his gut told him to let it lie for a bit. She’d been badly bruised, and not just her bottom. He lifted his hat and ran his free hand over his hair. Well, bruises healed. He’d wait a few days before riding out to the Bar W to check on her.
Mitch swung into his saddle. He followed Melody’s trail to the end of town and pulled his horse to a stop. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the pommel of his saddle. He didn’t want to hold her against her will. He didn’t want her to be his prisoner. He wanted her as his partner. It was a devil’s bargain, and the devil always deals a losing hand.
His shoulders sagged, and his heart ached. Mitch turned his horse toward Journey’s End and gave a gentle dig with his heels. If something happened to her, he would forever regret this decision.
Mitch arrived at Journey’s End and settled his horse in the barn. Lars and Sven sat on the porch each with their smallest child in their lap. Micah threw a stick for Chase who leapt into the air to catch it before it hit the ground like a highflyer in a circus act he’d seen once in San Francisco.
“Chase,” Mitch called.
The dog dropped the stick and raced to his master’s side. Standing on hind legs, he put his paws on Mitch’s shoulders and licked every last speck of dust from his face.
“All right, boy, get down,” Mitch laughed. Chase fell to his four feet and squirmed in such delight that he spun in a tight circle. Micah was next in line pulling on Mitch’s pants for attention. Mitch obliged and settled down on one knee as Micah inf
ormed his uncle of all he’d missed in his absence. Annika took her first steps. Baby Jake slept through the night and had two tiny teeth. Chase had been allowed to sleep on his bed, and his mama had made an apple pie for after dinner. He paused to draw a breath and puckered his little forehead into a frown. “Where’s Auntie Melody?” he asked.
Lars rose from his chair and peeked around the porch and toward the barn. “Where is Melody?” he echoed.
“She stayed at the Bar W.” Mitch raised his eyebrows and tilted his head toward Micah. “I’ll explain later.”
Lars and Sven nodded understanding. Micah was a first-rate boy, but he repeated and shared every bit of information that came his way.
Mitch’s sister, Ellie, poked her nose out the door. “Hello, Mitch. When did you get back?”
“Just now,” he replied.
Ellie scanned the yard, “Where’s Melody?”
“She stayed at the Bar W,” Micah informed her.
She looked from Micah to Mitch and back again before giving a small shrug. “Dinner’s ready.”
After Mitch scraped the final crumbs of pie from his plate, he rose from his chair. “Thank you, ladies, that was mighty fine eating.” He retrieved his hat from a peg in the wall and settled it on his head. “It’s been a long couple of days. I think I’ll head on over to my cabin.”
“Goodnight, Mitch.” Ellie stood on tiptoe to plant a small kiss on her brother’s cheek.
“Goodnight, Ellie.” He gave her a hug and nodded at the others gathered around the table. “Micah,” he said, “I’d like to take Chase with me. It will be mighty lonesome over at my place without him, but I surely do thank you for taking such good care of him while I was gone.”
“You’re welcome, Uncle Mitch. I’m happy to watch him any time,” the boy stated.
“I know I can count on you.” Mitch held his hand out and the child’s small one disappeared into his own. He could already see in Micah’s face the shadow of the man he would become, and it gave his stomach a queer turn. Life flew by mighty fast. He’d best keep his eyes open, or he’d miss it.
Melody (Journey's End Book 2) Page 9
