by Gold, Ciara
“What about family, Mr. Cochran?” Kaitlin was purposely being difficult, but why?
“Do you have any family left, and if so, are you on good terms with the members of your family?”
“My family is dead to me, sir,” Kaitlin replied flatly. “Now then, I think I’ve answered enough questions for the day. If something else comes to me, I’ll let you know.”
Kaitlin motioned to Bryce. “Will you ride the streetcar back with me, or do you have other errands to attend?”
“You go on back. I’m going to jaw a bit more with Dan and do a little investigative work before I head back to your house.”
Bryce waited until Kaitlin closed the door behind her before turning his attention toward Dan. “So, tell me, Dan, what do you really think about all of this?”
“Do you want the honest truth?”
“Does a polecat smell bad?”
“That woman is hiding something.” Dan started to straighten papers on his desk. “For whatever reasons, she’s lying to me and to you about the full details.”
Bryce inclined his head. “I had those same, exact thoughts. So what now? Tell me what I can do to help you get to the bottom of this.”
“You might start frequenting the bars. If this person is of a devious nature, he’ll take respite in some of the less popular spots in town. I’ll make out a list for you. In the meantime, keep a close eye on Miss Kanatzer.”
Easier said than done, Bryce thought. Kaitlin had a mind of her own.
This whole business with Kaitlin complicated things. He’d come to Denver with two goals. He wanted Charley to get to know her aunt, and he wanted to find a wife. He’d hoped Kaitlin might want Charley to stay with her, but Kaitlin’s lifestyle didn’t lend itself to raising children. Kaitlin was just too opinionated and set in her ways to bend for anyone, including a child. On the other hand, Charley was difficult to love, but Kaitlin had made giant strides in the two weeks they’d come to be here.
With goal one accomplished, he could start working on goal two. Emma’s unavailability put a dent in his plans. Having to protect Kaitlin made it difficult to find time to look for other candidates. He’d run across an ad for a marriage broker, but he didn’t feel that desperate yet. He just needed some time to find the right girl and start courting her. If only he had more time. William wanted him back at the Double S for winter round-up. That left him roughly two months to find a suitable mother figure for Charley.
It also put a time limit on his work for Kaitlin. By the end of his stay, he needed to find the person or persons responsible for her difficulties, or he might not be able to leave with a clear conscience.
~ * ~
“Kaitlin, you’ve got mail!” Maggie called out.
Kaitlin immediately gathered her skirts and ran down the stairs, intent on intercepting Maggie before Bryce looked through her letters. His investigation into her problems annoyed her. She enjoyed very little privacy these days.
She hit the last step in time to see Bryce flipping through the missives.
Maggie looked up from leaning over Bryce’s shoulder. “Hey, Kaitlin, looks like you got one from Oresonville.”
Bryce opened the envelope and took the note out. Kaitlin tried to rip it from his hand, but he evaded her prying fingers. She folded her arms against her chest and glared at him while he scanned the contents.
“Who’s Sarge,” he finally asked, looking at her as if he had every right to know her deepest secrets.
“None of your business.”
“Maggie?” Bryce turned to her friend who merely shrugged.
He scanned the contents. “Seems this Sarge wants you to come home. I thought you told Dan you didn’t have any family.”
Kaitlin remained mute. She couldn’t discuss Sarge with this man. Maggie knew a little about her past but not all, and she hoped to keep it that way.
“Does this mean you have a husband out there?”
“You are digging into matters that don’t concern you.” She tapped her toe impatiently, her hand outstretched for the letter. To her chagrin, he ignored her silent command.
“Your safety concerns me.”
“I don’t see why. Until two weeks ago, I was a complete stranger to you.”
Bryce shoved the letter at her. “You’re the most difficult woman I’ve ever run across. Cows got more sense than you, and they don’t have much sense at all.”
She watched him tear into the second letter. By his expression, she knew what it said without him reading it aloud. Leave Denver or else.
“Where are the rest of ’em?” he asked.
“Rest of what?” She gave him her most naïve, innocent look.
“These letters.” He rattled the mail at her. “I haven’t seen any more of these notes since your parlor got ransacked. I just can’t believe there aren’t more. So where have you hidden ’em?”
“Most like, they’re in her dresser drawer upstairs. Want me to go look?” Maggie offered.
Kaitlin stomped her foot. “Maggie. How could you?”
“Kaitlin, it’s time you accepted help here. No one is going to think less of you for welcoming a little assistance.”
Maggie turned away, her green frock rustling in her wake. Kaitlin felt betrayed. She sent Bryce an accusing glare for having turned Maggie against her. “I won’t have you digging into my personal affairs.”
“Why? What are you afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid of anything,” she said, silently asking God to forgive her for the white lie. She feared everything at this point, but she wouldn’t admit it to this man, or any man for that matter. Fear became a weakness, and she’d spent years proving to herself how strong she could be.
Maggie returned with four unopened pieces of mail. She handed them to Bryce. He turned them over in his hand, examining the envelopes before ripping into each one. Kaitlin could do nothing but stand and watch. Three came from the unidentified hate mailer and the other from Sarge.
“Another letter from Sarge asking you to return,” Bryce commented. He then took time to study the envelopes. “Postmarks on these three are identical to the one with this Oresonville return address.”
“That means nothing,” Kaitlin replied, but her heart skipped a beat at the revelation.
“I think it means a lot. I think you know exactly who’s been doing this to you and why. The question I have to ask now is, who are you protecting?”
The arch in her back stiffened. She didn’t care for his insinuations. She owed this man nothing. Who did he think he was, coming to her home, forcing his company upon her, and dredging up old memories?
“Maggie, can you tell me what I want to know?” Bryce’s eyes held Kaitlin’s as he peppered Maggie for information. “Who’s Sarge?”
Maggie shook her head. “No one I can tells you about.”
Thank you, Maggie. She just hoped Bryce wouldn’t realize Maggie’s use of poor English reflected guilt over the half-truth she’d just told.
Bryce meticulously folded each letter and stuffed them in his vest pocket.
Kaitlin grabbed his forearm. “Where are you going with my mail?”
“What mail?”
“Bryce Stanton. You give me those letters.”
“This is evidence. I plan to turn them over to Dan.”
“You can’t.”
“Watch me.”
And she did. She watched him cram on his hat, grab his coat, and stalk out the front door. She stared at the closed portal. What had she stirred up with her lie? Who was she really protecting? What did it matter if Sarge still hounded her to return to the Silver Saddle Ranch?
“I’m thinking it’s a good thing that man came when he did.”
Kaitlin snapped out of her forlorn thoughts to glance at Maggie. “What makes you say that?”
“You’ve been hiding from your past too long, Kaitlin. All this bravado, all this screaming for rights is just your way of hiding. God works in mysterious ways, and whether you like it or not, I thi
nk He just sent you an angel.”
Kaitlin shivered. Angel? No, Bryce wore no halo. She remembered how he tormented her with a kiss that never happened. More like, he was the devil meant to taunt her with her shortcomings. And as always, the devil would have his due. She just wondered when Bryce would have his.
Fourteen
Bryce sat in a darkened corner with his back to the wall. The Red Garter Bar seemed to be a sleazier establishment compared to the Tip Top Saloon or the Thirsty Sailor. He’d rather be home sparring with Kaitlin than inhaling stale smoke and watching the riffraff float in and out.
Home? When had he begun to think of Kaitlin’s house as home? He ran his hand over his tired eyes, trying to shake an obscure notion that Kaitlin meant more to him than just Charley’s aunt. The thought was ludicrous. Kaitlin’s place seemed like home because Charley was there, and it was currently his place of residence. That’s all.
He took a swig of beer, sipping slow to keep the appearance of drinking. He couldn’t afford to become inebriated if he hoped to find Kaitlin’s nemesis. A quick turn of his head to the right and left made his neck crack. It felt stiff from sleeping on the floor where he’d been moved once the parlor had been cleaned. He didn’t mind the hard floor. It proved a sight better than sleeping with all those dolls.
He raised his eyes to the door, searching the dim interior for any newcomers. The place was packed, and the low hum of voices made it difficult to hone in on individual conversations. His head ached, a sure sign he’d stayed an hour longer than he should have. Pulling out a worn pocket watch, he sighed. He’d give this place fifteen more minutes before calling it a night.
As promised, Jack agreed to watch the house, keeping vigil over the ladies while Bryce conducted business about town. Kaitlin had no clue as to the nature of tonight’s errand, nor did he wish to apprise her of his activities. He saw no sense in getting her hopes up, and he didn’t want her or Charley to worry about him finding trouble while he frequented the less desirable areas of town.
He set his empty mug down, intending to get up from the table and leave, when his diligence finally paid off.
The very fiend he’d chased from Kaitlin’s home that first day came strolling through the swinging door.
The familiar face appeared much younger than he’d thought. The youngster’s features registered a weariness that indicated fear. Bryce smiled. The poor youngster didn’t yet know what fear was, but Bryce had a mind to show him.
He waited until the boy had seated himself at the bar before he made his move. Slowly, with the stealth of a bobcat, Bryce picked his way through the milling crowd. His motions were unhurried as he sidled in next to the culprit. Up close, the boy looked even younger. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen. Dirty fingers gripped a mug of beer, and downcast eyes peered at nothing in particular. Perhaps the boy hoped to keep a low profile, disillusioned into thinking it rendered him invisible. Bryce grinned. The boy wasn’t invisible to him.
“Fine night to partake in a bit of refreshment,” Bryce said softly, evenly. The boy reminded him of a trapped animal. He didn’t even look Bryce’s way.
“Got no use for company, Mister,” the boy replied.
“That’s too bad, because I do have use for your company,” Bryce said.
The boy gave a long sigh, as if defeated by Bryce’s simple statement then squared his shoulder. “I charge five dollars for the evening.”
Bryce blinked. Surely, he’d misunderstood. “What?”
The boy stared across the room, not meeting Bryce’s eyes. “A dollar for the whole night. Three if I gotta take all my clothes off.”
The boy had misunderstood his intent. What the boy suggested made his stomach roil with nausea. No one should have to sell their body to live if they didn’t want to. Even in these difficult times, a person could find suitable work if they really wanted. He thought of Bethany. She’d enjoyed such a profession, had reveled in the various attentions paid to her. Every movement the boy made indicated a clear lack of enthusiasm. Bryce’s protective nature surfaced. He tried to tamp it down by reminding himself of the boy’s crimes.
Bryce slapped five silver dollars on the table. The boy looked like he could use the money. The man beside him snickered. Bryce ignored him. He wanted the boy alone, so he could make his accusations and get answers. This just seemed like the best way.
The boy looked at the money, raised his head, and glanced at the bartender. “Which room, Harry?”
“Second on the left is unoccupied.” Harry took the coins, stuffed them into his pocket and gave the boy twenty five cents. That sickened Bryce even more. Through it all, the boy never looked his way, had no idea whom he’d be entertaining tonight.
Bryce followed him upstairs. A cockroach scurried out of the way when he opened the door. Bryce grimaced at the filth but said nothing. The boy walked in, threw a log on the fire, and took off his shirt. Bryce would have stopped him, but the bruises upon this boy’s skin arrested his attention. Bryce closed the door, and locked it, pocketing the key.
The click of the lock made the unkempt waif finally turn to look at Bryce. It took a minute for recognition to set in. Sad brown eyes rounded and his Adam’s apple bobbed, but he made no sound.
“Your name, son,” Bryce said quietly.
“No need for names.”
“I’m not going to spend the time I paid for calling you boy. Your name.”
“Pete.”
“Pete, I guess you know why I’m here.” Bryce meandered toward the grimy window, blocking the only avenue of escape.
Pete nodded.
“I want answers.” He braced his feet and folded his arms. “I think you can help me.”
“I ain’t talkin’.”
“You threw a rock that busted the window of a very nice lady. After seeing you like this, I’m thinking someone paid you to do it.”
“Look. You paid for me to service you. Nothin’ else.” Pete unbuttoned his pants.
“I paid for your time. As the customer, I get to say how this time will be spent. We’re going to spend it talking.”
The boy shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m a good listener.”
Stubborn cuss. Pete plopped onto the bed and his gaze settled on a piece of torn wallpaper. He wouldn’t meet Bryce’s eyes. The set of his thin shoulders indicated pride, and Bryce realized whatever events set him on this path, it hadn’t yet broken this boy’s spirit.
“How old are you?”
“Fourteen.”
Bryce sauntered closer. Pete’s bruised skin stretched taut against his ribs. It had been awhile since he’d seen a decent meal. Bryce eased onto the bed next to Pete and reached out to turn the boy, so he could assess the damage. Pete tensed, obviously expecting another beating to loosen his tongue. Red welts covered his back. A few areas still bled.
“Who did this to you?”
“Don’t matter.”
“It matters to me.” Bryce touched one of the welts, and Pete flinched. “No one should abuse you like that.”
Pete shrugged.
“How much were you paid to throw that rock?”
“A whole twenty dollars, more money than I usually make in a month,” Pete said with some pride.
“What did you do with the money?”
“The man what keeps me found out about it and took it all,” Pete growled.
“Harry?”
Pete nodded. “He had to fight me to get it, though.”
“I see. Why do you stay?”
“I ran once. Harry found me, beat me so bad, I almost died. I got well and ran again. This time he took it out on my sister. I told him I’d stay, but only if’n he promised to see my sister married off.” Pete’s shoulders sagged. “He kept his promise. Now, I gotta keep mine.”
Bryce swallowed hard. He thought about Charley and her upbringing. Charley was luckier than most. At least, she’d never been physically abused, though her scars probably ran just as deep.
“You stay rig
ht here.” Bryce made a quick decision. “I’m still on the clock, so don’t move. I won’t be cheated out of my full time. You just sit a spell, and I’ll be right back.”
Bryce stomped down the stairway, rounded the corner, and grabbed Harry by his shirtfront. Without batting an eye, he threw down a wad of bills. “The boy. I want him permanently. This is payment.”
He dropped his hand from Harry’s shirt. Harry grabbed for the money and tallied the amount. Bryce took out a piece of paper and wrote a few words on it. He shoved it under Harry’s nose. “Sign it.”
Harry shoved the cash into his pocket and scanned the short contract. “Says here I can’t even visit with him. He’s my kid.”
“Not anymore. That money you just pocketed says he’s mine. That paper you’re gonna sign gives me all legal rights to the boy. I don’t want you anywhere near him.”
“That ain’t right.” Harry pushed the contract away.
Bryce laid his hand suggestively on the hilt of his gun. “We could negotiate another way.”
“No...No. That’s all right. I’m happy with this agreement.” Harry retrieved the piece of paper and attached a signature.
Bryce smiled. Harry obviously possessed very few, if any, morals. Slowly, Bryce folded the document and put it into his vest pocket. He climbed the rickety stairs, feeling Harry’s hard stare with every step. When he entered the dingy room again, he locked the door and went to investigate the window. Luckily, the location of the window offered a wonderful means of escape. He didn’t trust Harry not to arrange a different outcome for their agreement when Bryce tried to leave with Pete.
“Put your shirt on.” Bryce tossed Pete the wrinkled garment.
Pete obeyed without protest. “What now?”
“Now, we leave.” He struggled with the window, forcing the swollen wood to slide open.
“Leave?”
Bryce turned back to Pete, withdrew the paper, and showed it to him. Pete shook his head. “I can’t cipher letters, Mister.”
“You’re no longer Harry’s responsibility. You’re now mine. I’m gonna buy you a train ticket that’ll take you to Kansas City then to Ft. Worth. I’ll give you enough money, so you can make your way to Brownwood from there. It’ll be your choice. You can go to Brownwood where my brother, William, will give you a decent job, or you can squander the funds and find yourself out on the streets again. All I want in return is the man who paid you to throw that rock.”
