by Gold, Ciara
Twenty Nine
The next morning, Bryce woke with the intention of spending the day asking questions and hopefully getting answers. He needed to see Dan Cochran first. Afterwards, he planned to pay a visit to the livery stable where Maggie had rented a horse for Kaitlin. Upon completing those chores, he’d seek out Jack. He’d mapped his day until he found the package waiting for him on the front step.
Tucking the parcel under his arm, he retraced his steps into the house. Eyeing the small packet, his suspicions ran amok. The parcel was addressed to him and not Kaitlin. With no return markings, whoever left it had delivered the package in person. He kept his coat on, thinking he’d open it quickly, peer inside, then dash off for his errands. Taking a knife, he cut the string that held the brown paper wrapping together. Cautiously, he peeled back the covering. Inside, he found two newspapers. One was dated almost two weeks ago, the day after he’d left for Oresonville. The second wore yesterday’s date, the day he’d returned.
Curious, he scanned the earlier edition, not sure what he’d find. The article of interest was located on the last page under the society section. The paper crinkled as he folded it to isolate the story. A few words into the story and his fury rose. Someone wanted to discredit Kaitlin by spreading rumors that were based on half-truths. He wasn’t bothered by the clause that pertained to him. He didn’t have anything to lose and would likely be leaving soon for Brownwood where such gossip would have little bearing.
He paused before looking at the second issue. Intuitively, he searched the society section first. Just as suspected, he found a companion article to the first. Stunned, he read until his eyes blurred with emotion.
Lover’s Liason turned Deadly
By L. M. Klein
Kaitlin Kanatzer, acclaimed leader of the Mountain Ridge Chapter of Colorado Suffrage Association, was seen leaving town to meet her lover. On route, her ex-fiancé, James Latham, met his early demise when Bryce Stanton shot and killed him. A lovers’ quarrel gone awry? The pair then checked into a hotel in Idaho Springs where they shared a cozy meal before retiring to a single room. Before reaching Oresonville, the two were seen sharing rooms two more nights. One has to ask how a pillar of our community, a leader of righteous women, can demand our attention when her own morals are clearly in doubt.
“I thought you’d left,” Maggie commented as she passed by the hallway.
Bryce glanced up and shook the paper at her. “Have you read this?”
Maggie stared at the item. “You must have seen the article they wrote about Kaitlin. Folks that know Kaitlin, know she isn’t like that. They know that you being here is as innocent as it really is.”
“Maybe from readin’ the first paper, but have you read yesterday’s paper?”
“I didn’t get a chance.” She stepped closer.
He handed it to her. She opened it slowly before casting her gaze upon the print. Shock made her features go taut. She clutched the newspaper, her knuckles pale pink against the grayish cast of the newsprint.
“How could anyone be so heartless?”
Bryce nodded. “More importantly, how did they find out so soon about James’ death, and how did they know we shared a room?”
“That reporter must have followed you.” Maggie stated. Her tone reflected the astonishment he felt. He’d come to the same conclusion. The other scenario he’d envisioned seemed much worse. James Latham could have an accomplice who was still out there. If that were the case, Kaitlin was still in danger.
“Let me have that paper.” Bryce held out a trembling hand.
“What are you going to do?”
“It’s time to chase the fox out of the chicken coop.” Gripping the tabloid, he stormed out the door.
Perhaps the author of the damaging work could shed light on the lies perpetrated here. He planned to hear what this L. M. Klein had to say on the matter.
~ * ~
Bryce entered the small office that housed the printing press for the local newspaper. A small, wiry man bent over a tray in which he placed small metal letters. Bryce cleared his throat to gain the man’s attention.
“If you got a story, I’ll be with you presently. Otherwise you’ll have to come back tomorrow. I haven’t time to take care of anything else.” The man didn’t even bother looking up.
Bryce scanned the cluttered room, making note of the pristine equipment amid stacks of papers and cans of ink. A strong chemical smell invaded his senses, and his eyes itched and burned. “I just need a moment of your time. My name is Bryce Stanton, and I believe your paper owes me an apology.”
“Sidney Cooper,” the man said without glancing at Bryce, “and the Denver Express doesn’t apologize for the truth.”
Sidney continued to add letters, typesetting an article for the next issue.
“You took Klein’s word without proof.” Bryce’s brow creased in a fierce frown.
“I had it checked out.” The man pushed glasses onto a wide nose and continued to set type. “No secret you’re living with Miss Kanatzer.”
“I’m sleepin’ on the floor in the front parlor. Your articles mislead the reader with no thought to the sensibilities of the victim.”
“Victim?” Sidney finally lifted his head and met Bryce’s gaze. “Now see here. We only print fact. That issue sold twenty-five percent more copies than any previous issues to date. Miss Kanatzer is a celebrity of sorts around here, what with her speeches and protest marches. People enjoyed reading about her.”
Bryce was trying to be patient, but this man made it difficult to remain rational.
“Words are a mighty powerful tool. Words in the hands of the right person can be just as deadly or damagin’ as a gun in the hands of a gunfighter. Don’t you care about how this will affect Miss Kanatzer?” Bryce leaned over one of the trays holding a set of typeset letters.
Sidney paused for just a brief moment while he stared at Bryce. Pushing the wireframe glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, he shook his head. “This is a business. I have a duty to report the truth.”
Truth? What did this man know about truth? Bryce curled his lip. “Then report everything you know to me. Who did you send to check out this story? Or better yet, where can I find L. M. Klein? I’d like to hear his source for this information.”
“Sorry. Klein is away on another assignment. As for checking out the facts, I hired someone to follow Miss Kanatzer. She is news, after all.”
“You what?” Bryce placed his hands on top of letters, and they shifted beneath his fingers.
“Here now. Careful what you’re doing there. That tray took me two hours to set.”
“That’s just too bad.” Bryce dug in his fingers and scraped a handful of letters onto the floor. “I’m sorry. That was rather clumsy of me.”
“Out. Get out.” Sidney pointed an ink-stained finger. “Or I’ll send for the police.”
Bryce started to accommodate him but stopped just short of the door. “One more thing. Did your investigator happen to notice anyone else with James Latham the day he died?”
Sidney scooped up the fallen letters, frantically trying to put them back in place. “Why would I want to answer you? Look what you’ve done. I’ll be up all night fixing the damage you did to tomorrow’s issue.”
Bryce casually walked over to the other tray of letters, the one Sidney had been working on when he’d entered the newspaper office. “Goodness, just think how much time you’d lose with another messed-up tray.”
Sidney finally stood and gave Bryce his full attention. “The man only followed Miss Kanatzer. After you shot Mr. Latham, he followed you both to the hotel. After that, he came back here, where he did a little asking around. When he discovered that Mr. Latham had once been engaged to Miss Kanatzer, he presented his findings to me. I in turn gave my notes to Klein who drafted the article. Now, if you’re quite finished, I have work to do, no thanks to you.”
Bryce nodded his head. “It was entirely my pleasure.” He took great delight in slamm
ing the door on his way out. Truth indeed. The man wouldn’t know the truth if it stampeded all over him.
A collision jarred his teeth as he ran into a solid form. He touched his lip where he’d bitten it before glancing down at the reason for his pain. He straightened his hat and saw he’d knocked down Marcy Klein. Reaching down, he offered her his hand. Gazing up at him, she declined his offer with a pointed look.
“My apologies, ma’am. I didn’t see you there.”
She stood, and adjusted her clothing. Her bonnet sat askew on top of her head, but she seemed more concerned with the dust that covered her dress.
“Mr. Stanton. We missed you in church last Sunday.” She tore the crooked bonnet from her head and smoothed it out.
Her tone was chilly, not at all embracing. Bryce smiled, but seconds later, his smile faded. Was it a coincidence that Marcy was headed for the newspaper office? “You wouldn’t happen to be related to the reporter, L. M. Klein, would you?”
Her back stiffened and her skin turned a rosy hue. “He’s a distant cousin.”
Bryce narrowed his eyes. He’d bet his best John B. that Marcy lied. To what purpose he didn’t know. “I took a trip.”
Here was his golden opportunity to tell his version of the story. With Marcy’s penchant for talking non-stop, Kaitlin’s friends would soon know that nothing untoward had happened between them. Kaitlin’s reputation would be salvaged.
“So I’ve read. In fact, we’ve all read about how you’ve ruined our dear, sweet Kaitlin.” She swatted him with her bonnet. “How could you?”
His skin warmed. “Look, Miss Klein, you have your facts all wrong. Your cousin needs to do a better job of reportin’ correct information. I stayed with Miss Kanatzer in those hotel rooms because her life was in danger.”
“You shot Mr. Latham, her ex-fiancé. You killed an innocent man.” She crammed the overly decorative bonnet over her tangled curls. “How was her life still in danger if Latham was dead?”
“Innocent? He shot at her first. He tried to kill her. We didn’t know if he acted alone, or if he had an accomplice. We still don’t know why he did it.”
“That’s not what the paper said. You should be arrested for murder. How could you shoot the very person she was once in love with?” She turned her head this way and that apparently searching for the law. “Why aren’t you in jail where you belong?”
Bryce gritted his teeth, not understanding how she could misconstrue the facts so thoroughly. And just where in tarnation had the article said anything about him killing an innocent man? There was a note of anguish in her voice that didn’t make sense. “Did you not understand what I said? Kaitlin’s life may be in danger. I shot him to save Kaitlin.”
“So now it’s Kaitlin and not Miss Kanatzer. For just a friend, you seem awful familiar with her. I’m more inclined to believe my cousin. Poor Kaitlin. You’ve totally ruined her reputation. Poor Latham. He’s dead because of you.”
“Now, wait just a—”
“I think I best be going. It wouldn’t do to be seen talking to you. If you want my advice, you’ll do what you can to make this right for Kaitlin. She didn’t deserve to have her good name abused so thoroughly. I doubt her suffrage group will want to follow her lead now. I know I don’t, and the cause is a good one.” She finished her long-winded speech by stretching her neck forward and turning her head slightly sideways. Her glare was enough to make him refrain from answering. She pivoted and marched away, leaving him agape.
“Wow,” Jack exclaimed as he walked up from behind. “She sure did fill your ear full.”
“Reckon that’s how everyone took to that article?” Bryce asked.
“Miss Kaitlin was the talk of the town while you two were gone. Still is.”
“I want to marry that woman, Jack, but not because of some misguided notion I compromised her.” He stroked his chin. “If I have to marry her because of that, she’ll never believe I’m marryin’ her because I actually want to.”
“Why do you wanna marry her?”
The question made Bryce’s brows gather in a frown. He hadn’t really thought about it. He just knew that he needed a wife and that Katy more than piqued his interest. So, why did he want to marry Kaitlin Kanatzer? The question would likely plague him through the night.
Thirty
Kaitlin started at the sound of an approaching horse and rider. She loved it here, but the isolated cabin wouldn’t offer much fortification against a gun-toting hombre. Sarge had railed against her plans to move out of the ranch house and onto her property without some sort of protection, vehemently arguing that he could provide help. But she needed the time to herself. She needed the time to reflect upon her life goals, her life desires. Her aspirations were no longer clear in her mind.
Unable to determine who might be calling so late in the evening, she shrugged into her coat and picked up the rifle. After making sure it was loaded, she pushed open the door. Lifting the Winchester to her shoulder, she planted her feet apart and took up watch on the front porch.
When the rider finally came into view, she lowered the weapon and waited for him to dismount.
“You certainly know how to make a fellow feel welcome.” Bryce dismounted with the grace of a mountain lion. The comparison didn’t make her feel any safer.
“You weren’t expected for another two weeks. Can’t say I like surprises.”
Bryce made no other comments as he casually walked the horse to the barn. She followed, curious as to his intentions. With James gone and no other threats made against her life, she saw no reason for him to stay at the cabin with her.
She stood in the open doors of the barn, watching as he unsaddled Burlap. Even with his layers of clothing, she appreciated the fluid way his body moved. Spurs rattled as he pulled the saddle and blanket from his horse and tossed them onto a rail. The bridle followed. Finding a brush, he curried the horse with gentle but sure strokes, all the while crooning to the faithful steed.
His actions indicated his plans to stay. Bryce hadn’t even asked, just put Burlap into a stall and bedded the horse down for the evening as if he owned the place. She should be used to his domineering ways, but she wasn’t. Not when it meant he planned to be here with her. Alone.
“You aren’t thinking of staying here, are you?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“Thought I would.”
“You didn’t think to ask me?”
“Are you objectin’?”
She should, but he looked weary to the bone. Everything he’d done so far, he’d done for her. She owed him more courtesy than she was showing.
She tilted her head. “I suppose you can bed down in the barn, then. There’s not enough room in the cabin, and it wouldn’t be right even if there was.”
She leaned the rifle against the wall and bundled her coat closer to her body, knowing the request was unreasonable. The barn wouldn’t afford the warmth her cabin would provide, yet she felt the need to voice her objections.
His shoulders sagged. “Fine.”
“I’ve got the place fixed up some. Sarge sends his men out to check on me at least once a day.”
His head lifted and his gaze locked with hers. “Does this mean you’ve patched things up with your pa?”
“I’m...I’m a bit more open to his overtures, so yes, we’re working on it.” Steam floated from her lips, and she shivered.
He stepped away from his horse. “Got any vittles left over from dinner?”
She stared at his ruddy cheeks and the bits of ice clinging to his mustache and felt her heart thaw. “I’ve got a pot of stew buried in the snow. I can retrieve it and warm a plate for you.”
“That sounds like heaven,” he said, closing the stall gate. Not waiting to see if she followed, he started for the cabin.
“That wasn’t an invitation to...to go inside.” She grabbed the gun and followed him. His assumption that he’d be welcome after she expressly told him no hit a nerve.
“Relax.” He cont
inued on his chosen path, exiting the barn. “I’ll eat a bite then make a pallet in the barn.”
Moisture gathered behind her eyelids and she blinked back tears, amazed at the turmoil generated by her confused thoughts. One part of her had hankered for his return, waiting anxiously through the week for the day he’d ride back into her life. Yet, another part of her fought against the feelings Bryce elicited. A gust of bitter cold wind pelted her. Cradling the rifle, she followed him inside.
He immediately headed for the fireplace and rubbed his hands briskly together while he stood, warming his body. She shut the door behind her and went to the fire to stand beside him, keeping the coat on for added protection, whether from the cold or from Bryce, she couldn’t say.
“Did you travel the whole way in this weather or did you take the train?”
“The train.” He turned so his back was to the fire. “I couldn’t see makin’ Charley travel on horseback for four days, when the train would get us here faster. Burlap didn’t take well to the confined space, though. Once we got off the train, it only took half a day by horse. By the way, I left Charley at the main house with Sarge.”
Kaitlin nodded. She wondered how Sarge was handling Bethany’s daughter. For Charley’s sake, she hoped he didn’t give her a hard time. Surely, he wouldn’t hold Bethany’s sins against his own granddaughter.
Without looking at Kaitlin, Bryce removed his trench coat. He draped the coat over the back of a chair, and removed his hat. The Stetson left a creased mark around his thick hair while the rest of his sandy, blond locks fell in unruly waves, evidence of the wind that had whipped around him as he traveled. His cheeks were chapped red with cold, a strong contrast to the dark stubble that covered his lower jaw. Deep brown eyes met her ardent perusal with direct purpose, never wavering as they took her measure. She continued drinking in the sight of him, allowing herself the pleasure of admiring him. He wore chaps over trousers strapped tight around his legs, emphasizing the tight muscles in his buttocks. She swallowed, uncomfortable with the direction of her thoughts.
