Love on the Range

by Mary Connealy

  Wyatt narrowed his eyes as he sorted through a plan. “I might be able to just move into his bunkhouse and never tell Hawkins I’m there.”

  “The other cowhands would notice,” Hobart said, “but they don’t talk to Hawkins. If you told them you were hired, whether they believed it or not, they probably wouldn’t go to Hawkins. Ralston gave the orders, and Hawkins mostly spent his days in the study with his feet up. I had to dust around the lazy half-wit.”

  “I could say I’m not living here anymore,” Wyatt said. “I could claim to be upset about the new brothers, now married to Win and Cheyenne. That I felt forced out of my own home. Just as Molly does. We could say we got tired of living here and came up with the idea of working for him.”

  “He made me clean the whole stupid house, except for the third floor, which is kept locked. I felt lucky he didn’t insist I go up there and dust, but I wanted to search it if I could figure out how to get in there without flat-out knocking down the door. I couldn’t pick the lock and never found a key, but near as I could tell, it was pure empty.” Pulling her cup of coffee close, Hobart said, “And he has a safe hidden behind a picture on the wall of his study, but I never got into it. I did sneak down there in the night many times and finally found a combination to the safe. But that was the day you came riding in to accuse Ralston of cattle rustling. I knew when you came that he’d taken off and was probably making a run for it, so I went after him. And that very night, when I should have been opening the safe, I came here to the RHR to question you about what you’d found out about Ralston.”

  “You were sneaking in,” Wyatt said. “Admit it. You were going to search our house and sneak right back out.”

  Rachel smiled. “Whatever my plans, they were foiled by your sharp-eared brother Falcon.”

  Falcon had heard her slipping around in the night, or rather, heard someone. He caught her and dragged her inside because they suspected her of shooting Wyatt.

  “Then you found Amelia Bishop for me, and I left Hawkins’s house for good. I ran out of time to search the combination safe.”

  “Combination safe?” Molly rested one hand on her chest and looked for all the world like a woman who’d never heard the term. “What is that?”

  “Some detective,” Wyatt muttered darkly.

  He squared his shoulders. He knew he wasn’t going to stop her. So he’d try his best to make it safe for her. “We have a combination safe here. You can practice opening it, and we can talk about how the numbers Rachel has will work on a different safe.”

  “And, Molly,” Hobart said, “I told you I also believe he has a second safe. I did some research on the floor plans of his house. A company in Omaha did the construction.”

  “You can find things like floor plans and look them over?” Molly sounded awestruck. Wyatt sure hoped she didn’t abandon teaching and housekeeping for detective work.

  “Yes, those things are available if you know where to look. I couldn’t find where the safe was installed, but I found that a second one was purchased. It’s not uncommon in a grand house, and that monstrosity Hawkins owns qualifies. I suspect it’s in his bedroom because I searched the rest of the house from top to bottom many times. Well, not the third floor. You’ll have to find a time to search his bedroom for the safe. It’s probably behind a clothes chest or behind another picture on the wall or under the floorboards. And there will be a secret switch or lever or something that will have to be used to lift up a section of the floor or move a panel on the wall. You’ll have to find it and—”

  “This is ridiculous!” Wyatt flung his arms wide. “Now she’s got to find a hidden safe with a secret switch? And do you have the combination for that, too?”

  Giving him a narrow-eyed look, Rachel smiled faintly. It could almost be called a smirk. “Actually, I do. There was a second number on the piece of paper I found. I copied both, not sure which one would work on the safe in his study. I’m still not sure, so if one doesn’t work, you’ll have to try the second. At first, I thought maybe he’d changed it and hadn’t scratched out the old number. Now I’m sure it’s for that second safe.”

  “And what am I looking for in these safes?” Molly’s jaw was firm. “What can he possibly have hidden in there that would tie him to crimes he committed years ago?”

  Hobart got very quiet. Her eyes appeared to burn as she studied Molly. It was a long stretch of seconds before she answered with grim regret. “A man who kills a woman because he abuses her is one kind of criminal. He may have a history of battering other women, but often he’ll marry, and the wife has no way out of the abuse. Or sometimes a woman can be so worn down by the abuse she thinks she deserves it.”

  Molly watched Hobart as if she were absorbing every word.

  “If Hawkins is that kind of man, we may never prove he killed anyone. But—” Hobart swallowed hard, glanced at Wyatt, then spoke more gently, as if she hated putting this knowledge in Molly’s head but felt she had to. “There is another kind of killer. A man who, rather than abusing his wife, is . . . is . . . well, he—” She swallowed again. “He enjoys killing and makes a habit of it. There’s a form of madness that makes a man kill people for no reason except that’s his madness.”

  “But I’ve met Hawkins.” Molly rubbed her hands up and down, from elbow to shoulder, back and forth as if she were cold. “There is nothing that suggests he’s furiously mad.”

  “There is, Molly, if you know what to look for, and I do. He has a way of treating women. Amelia and I discussed it, and I think you’ll see it, too, when you go to work there.”

  At the word when, Wyatt’s jaw clenched in fury and fear for Molly.

  “At the start, Hawkins is very charming, engaging, full of compliments and lavish with attention. He’ll want to watch you work, be in the same room as you. At first, it’s a little strange, but if a woman wasn’t suspicious, she wouldn’t be afraid. She might even be flattered. Then he’ll begin to make demands. Small things at first, reasonable things considering he’s your boss. But they struck me as odd, and they will you, too, especially since I’ve told you to watch for them. He’ll ask you to do things he could so obviously do for himself that it’s strange he doesn’t. Things like asking you to pour his coffee when you’ve got your hands in dishwater or coated in flour while you’re kneading bread. And the coffee-pot is sitting right in front of him. And he’ll expect you to do it quickly. He comments on it if you’re not grateful and demure. Mostly, he wants you to do as you’re told, and if you don’t, he expresses displeasure, first mildly, then with increasing severity. He is frightening.”

  Molly gasped, then clenched her jaw as if to keep her fear tightly under wraps.

  “When Amelia began to fear him, she accepted Percy Ralston’s offer of a runaway marriage. She really saw Ralston as a savior. And he told her she had to live secretly so Hawkins wouldn’t find her. Amelia was frightened enough of Hawkins to believe it. But Ralston’s real purpose was to hide that he was a cattle rustler.

  “I’ve done some study of killers like this, the ones who do it out of some mad need for power over a woman. They often keep a record of those they kill or collect something that belonged to them. A keepsake of some kind. It’s part of that need for power. If Hawkins is the kind of man I think he is, he’ll have something from each woman. There’s a good chance he has it in his secret safe.”

  Wyatt’s stomach twisted at the thought of a man collecting things from women he’d killed. There was no color left in Molly’s face. But she also looked determined. Quietly, he reached across the table and rested a hand on Molly’s little clenched fist. “You shouldn’t do this.”

  Molly met his gaze. “I probably shouldn’t. It’s not safe. But how many people protect themselves at the expense of another life? How many women die at the hands of brutal men while other people refuse to interfere? Hawkins isn’t an elderly man. If he was, maybe we could lie to ourselves that his life is almost over, and God would sort him out in the next life. But he has time to
hurt or kill more women. I will not stand by in safety while he goes on his way. Not when I can help.”

  They looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment.

  “You’re going to have to leave Molly alone, Wyatt.”

  He snatched his hand away and glared at Hobart.

  She didn’t even flinch.

  Wyatt had to admit, to himself only, that he had a sneaking admiration for Rachel Hobart. He’d made more than one man back down with his glare. She looked right back at him and never wavered.

  “If she’s to do any true detective work. Part of her job is observing the way Hawkins treats her. He’ll move slow, but he will move. He did with me. In some ways it’s a shame Cheyenne found Amelia because Hawkins’s behavior was becoming alarming.”

  “Then why was it a shame you got out of there?” Molly asked.

  Hobart’s teeth clenched. “Because I wanted him to try to hurt me, so I could make him sorry. I wanted the pleasure of fighting him when he attacked. I’m not some helpless young miss who doesn’t know how to protect herself. When he finally acted with violence, I would have come back at him hard, and I would have won. And he’d’ve hanged by now.”

  Admiration burned in Molly’s eyes. Wyatt had thought Molly might end up married to him. Instead, she looked like she wanted to team up with Rachel Hobart and head east to become a Pinkerton agent.

  Wyatt rubbed both hands over his face. “He’ll know I’m there with her. He won’t bother her.”

  “That’s true if you’re showing special interest in Molly or spending time with her. To catch him, you’ll have to stay away. And if you do that, I doubt he can stop himself from . . . bothering her. I doubt he can stop himself from bothering any woman in his household. If he did it to me and Amelia, and if Win is right about her mother, then it’s his way. His habit. And the other two women who went missing—two I’ve found out about, there could be more—add to my suspicions. I’ve spent a lot of time on this case with Senator Bishop’s full support. He’s contacted men he knows in Wyoming, including the territorial governor in Omaha, that’s how I got hold of those floor plans and purchase orders. And his associates in Chicago helped me dig into Hawkins’s background and found nothing. Nothing is almost as bad as finding something sordid, because I should have been able to trace him right back to infancy. Senator Bishop opened doors I’d have never gotten through so I could look into this. If I’m right, then Oliver Hawkins is a man who badly needs to be stopped.”

  Molly nodded, looking straight at Hobart as if the woman were writing law right before Molly’s eyes. “I’m going to be the one to stop him.”

  Her voice rang with zeal. As sick with fear as this made Wyatt, he admired her courage. He also knew there was something else going on here. The depth of her fervor, the gleam in her eyes, told him she wasn’t doing it for justice. To fight for right and wrong. Nor because Hobart had inspired her. Those things were part of it, but Molly had personal reasons, and they had to be rooted in her past.

  Molly had said loud and clear she never intended to marry. She’d said her pa was no great pillar of decency. Molly had been hurt. She was grabbing her chance to fight back.

  Wyatt intended to find out who’d hurt her. And while he was learning, he’d be close by to protect her.

  Twelve

  Are you out of your mind?”

  Molly’s hair nearly blew back in the face of Kevin’s outrage.

  “No, Molly.” Win leapt from the table. “You can’t. This isn’t right. You could be harmed.” She came around the table and threw her arms around Molly.

  Win and Kevin, Wyatt, Rachel Hobart, and Molly were the only ones at the table. Falcon and Cheyenne hadn’t come back last night.

  Molly had her pretty blue dress on again, the one sprinkled with white flowers. Win wore a neat black riding skirt with a pleated white shirtwaist. Wyatt looked at the two of them. Win with dark curls, blushing pink cheeks, and bright blue eyes brimming with tears. Molly with hair so fair it was more white than yellow. Fine hair she wore in a tidy bun on the top of her head, but with wisps escaping, framing her face, accenting her lighter blue eyes. Studying them, Wyatt hoped they worked things around to make themselves a family. Win and Molly needed one.

  Win’s arms came around Molly’s neck from the side, so her left arm crossed Molly’s chest. Molly reached up and held on to that arm.

  Then the crying started. Win only.

  Molly wasn’t much of a crier, but Win seemed to have a talent for it.

  “I’m leaving now.” Molly clutched Win’s arm. Wyatt thought it looked like her hands were acting the exact opposite of her words. She was leaving, but she really didn’t want to.

  “I swear to you, Molly”—Kevin, sitting directly across the dinner table from her, jabbed a finger right toward her nose—“I will follow you over there and ruin it.”

  Win hung on, sniffling.

  Molly patted Win’s forearm. “Let go, Win. I won’t be harmed because—”

  “Because I’m going with her.” Wyatt had been thinking about it, even talked about it, but until this moment, he hadn’t realized his mind was made up.

  “What?” Win raised her head and drew a sleeve across her eyes. “That makes no sense. Pa won’t believe you would move over there with Molly.”

  “Your pa lost almost all his hands. His foreman put out the word for more help, but I don’t think he’s found it. Leastways I’m sure he’s still shorthanded. I’ll go over and sign on. I plan to tell him I’m fed up with life here.” Wyatt loved the RHR, and no one with a functioning brain would believe otherwise. Lucky enough for him that Hawkins didn’t seem to use what few brains he had . . . except to harm women.

  His jaw tightened. “I’ll tell your pa I plan to strike out farther west in the spring, but I don’t want to cross the mountains in the winter. I’ll say I’m mad as blue blazes about the new brothers as good as stealing my land, and I won’t spend another hour under the same roof.”

  “We didn’t steal your land though,” Kevin said. “We need to . . . to . . .” He snapped his fingers and pointed at Rachel. “We need to hire one of you Pinkertons! See if you can find the exact date of Falcon’s ma’s death. If Pa was still married to her when he married Wyatt’s ma, the marriage isn’t legal and neither is the will.”

  “We haven’t told anyone that yet,” Wyatt said. “We settled it amongst ourselves, but the will needs to be struck down legally. I haven’t spoken to Carl Preston since you got here, and we probably oughta get his lawyerin’ involved. I figured Pa’s will being illegal made Ma’s legal, and we’re just going back to splitting things in half.” He stalked out of the room and could be heard thundering up the stairs.

  Kevin scowled at Rachel. “This is your fault. You came in here and stirred up trouble for my wife, making her relive an ugly worry she’s wanted to escape from. And now you’re putting my sister in danger while you hide here in the house.”

  Molly rose from the table and began clearing breakfast dishes. She’d waited until morning, until right before she left, to announce her plan, in order to lessen the wear on her ears. She knew Kevin wouldn’t like it.

  “You won’t change my mind, Kevin. And you can’t ruin it. Come over and make your accusations to Win’s pa, and I’ll just act like you’re lying to keep me from working.”

  “He’ll know we’ve got suspicions.”

  “Then I’ll be in even more danger. Thanks to you.” She made short work of cleaning up the kitchen. Win fell in and helped her. It was a good reminder that all this was going to fall on Win from now on.

  “You two move into the house.” Wyatt came downstairs with a satchel and bedroll. Then he said grimly, “Maybe we’ll be back in a couple of hours. Maybe Hawkins won’t hire neither of us. But if anyone talks of it, remember we’ve had a bad falling out. And ride over to see Cheyenne and Falcon and tell them, so they don’t trip up. Tell Cheyenne she’s in charge of this place. They’d probably best come back here while I’m gone.
I’ll tell Rubin I’m leaving. I trust him enough to be at least mostly honest. He’d never believe I’d abandoned the ranch.”

  Molly went for her things, came back, pulled on her coat, then hugged Kevin goodbye.

  Whispering, just for his ears, she said, “You know why I have to do this.” She pulled back, meeting his gaze, her heart almost trembling with memories and pain and shame.

  He knew how she felt. It was the one great secret they shared, although Kevin had told Win—at least he’d told her all he knew—but it had never gone further.

  Molly followed Wyatt out into the early morning of a chilly October day. The wind was mild. The sun was out. Snow had fallen again in the night but not heavily. It danced along the ground, as if the day were joyful.

  Molly couldn’t say she felt the same.

  Wyatt spoke quietly with Rubin. Molly followed him to the barn, and they saddled two horses. Then he and Molly were on the trail.

  “I’ve never applied for a job before,” Wyatt said as they rode in the cold.

  “He’d be a fool not to hire you, even if he thinks it’s strange. It sounds like you’re a better cowpoke than anyone he has.”

  “Do you remember everything Hobart told you?”

  “I think you’d better call her Mrs. Hobart, should her name ever come up in front of Hawkins. You’d do well not to sound like you know her enough to be casual.”

  Molly thought about another way into her soon-to-be new employer’s business. “Has Hawkins found someone to take over all the bookwork Ralston did?”

  “Not that I know of.” Wyatt glanced at her as they galloped along the rocky trail, heading southwest. Hills came up beside them. They rode through a herd of magnificent, shining black cattle. “Do you think he’d let you do his bookkeeping for him?”

  “Why not? It sounds like he’s a lazy man. I know my arithmetic from teaching school. If I work it right, he’ll think he’s asking me for help when really he’s letting me get a close look at his finances.”