The Blue Cloak

by Shannon McNear

  “Once?”

  Rachel nodded. “We thought it was just how far out they lived from the station, but they never even came to Sunday meeting. This from someone who made a big to-do about getting baptized a few weeks before their wedding.”

  Mr. Langford blinked with obvious surprise. Rachel carried the bowl of batter to the hearth and knelt to position the cast-iron pan in the coals. While it heated, she sat back on her heels and sighed. “I suppose, looking back, it makes more sense now. The Harpes likely never were God-fearing folk. But Wiley played a good role, making Sally’s family think so.” She waved toward the countertop. “Could you bring me a spoonful of bacon grease from that crock up there?”

  A look of confusion slid across his face, but after a moment’s hesitation, he found what she’d asked for and carefully scooped some with a wooden spoon. She thanked him and put the dollop into the warming pan, angling the spoon so the rest would melt off.

  Mr. Langford crouched on the other side of the hearth and watched as, when the bottom of the pan was coated, she poured batter for corncakes. “So, they’ve been accused of stealing horses and other livestock. Suspicion of arson. Suspicion of murder, already.” He chewed the side of his cheek. “White—Hugh, that is—mentioned the law out here is tenuous at best, but I presume there are courts at the county seats, at least?”

  Rachel sniffed. “If you could call it that. Knoxville has so much to contend with already, but horse thieving and a murder certainly make everyone sit up and take notice. Although, both there, and out here, seems there’s a shooting a week, from one thing and another.”

  Their guest continued to look thoughtful.

  “That platter on the table, please?” Rachel said. “And the spatula, where you found the wooden spoon.”

  He fetched both without hesitation.

  She turned the cakes and slid them off onto the platter as they finished, then poured more batter as Anne emerged, carrying the baby, and came to stand at the hearth. Rachel greeted her sister-in-law with a smile. “Thank you,” Anne said. “I’d intended to be up and about before now, but little Jesse was especially restless last night.”

  She gently bounced the infant, and Rachel glimpsed the beginnings of a grin on the baby’s face. “It’s no trouble, honest and true.”

  Dan came out as well, and Ben joined him in bringing up more wood and part of a slab of bacon, which Rachel set to slicing and frying in between batches of corncakes. The men sat to partake of breakfast. For a moment Rachel missed the conversation between herself and this stranger who suddenly was not such a stranger anymore. Although, he’d likely want to be on his way very soon.

  His errand was most pressing, and she was but one personage on his journey, after all.

  Such a sober meal, and yet satisfying, Ben had never experienced before. Simple fare, yet prepared with obviously expert hands. Ben found himself watching Miss Taylor—Rachel, although it felt too familiar to say so—with fascination. None of his acquaintance but servants handled cooking with such ease, and this young woman had a sharp mind and good understanding to go with her industrious hands. A tender heart as well, for this friend of hers who had fallen into such unfortunate circumstances.

  The four of them were at table together but a short time before he and Dan Taylor pushed back their plates, but Dan seemed in no hurry to leave his chair. “I’ve a need to get downstairs and open the post for the day,” he said, fastening a searching look on Ben. “But I’m thinking we’ve a greater need to pray before you go any farther on your journey.”

  “I’d be most grateful,” Ben said, and it was the truth.

  They all properly bowed their heads, and Dan prayed, taking his time with deep, thoughtful tones, his words not read from a book but no less heartfelt, asking the Almighty’s provision and protection and guidance over Ben and those who would be seeking the men responsible for his cousin’s demise.

  After, Ben thanked the Taylors and went to collect his baggage from the door. To his surprise, Rachel trailed behind, with corncakes and bacon wrapped in a cloth. “These are for your ride. And … I’ll walk you out, if you don’t mind.”

  Minding was the least of his thoughts, but he’d not say it. “Thank you most kindly, Miss Taylor.”

  A smile glimmered at the corner of her mouth.

  “Rachel,” he amended, and ignored the warmth rushing into his face.

  She led him back down the steps and out to the stable. Leaden skies were only just beginning to lighten in a winter’s dawn. In less than a week, it would be the shortest day of the year.

  Fitting, for how his heart felt, facing the task at hand.

  Ah … Thomas.

  Miss Taylor scooped Ivy a fresh armload of hay while he packed away the provender she’d offered. “What a beautiful creature,” she murmured. “What breed is he—or is it she?”

  Ben reached for a brush to smooth away the night’s roughness from Ivy’s russet coat before he saddled her. “She’s what they call an American Horse. Her dam was a Narragansett Pacer. Beautiful single-foot amble, very smooth under the saddle. Ivy inherited both of those.”

  Smile widening, she stroked the mare’s nose and neck. “Ivy—how lovely.” She left the horse and fetched a scoop of oats, pouring it into the feed bin at the corner of Ivy’s stall. “Extra for the journey,” she said, almost as if in apology. “With our compliments.”

  “You are entirely too helpful.” Setting aside the brush, he slanted her a glance and reached for saddle and blanket.

  The answering smile she flashed held a bit of an edge. “What, should I not extend hospitality as I can? Or should I be merely decorative and useless, here on the frontier?”

  Settling the blanket in place on Ivy’s back, he laughed, despite the day’s somberness. “Obviously not. And your generosity is much appreciated.”

  A frown flitted across her lovely features. “I must confess, however. I feel—somewhat responsible.”

  He stilled, holding the saddle in both hands. “What?”

  No hint of humor this time in her glance. “I was the one who told him Farris’s was to be recommended as lodging.”

  “You could not have known,” he said, too quickly, and his voice roughening. He cleared his throat and lifted the saddle to its place, then bent and reached under Ivy’s belly to grab the cinch. “Besides, if it’s the Jim Farris of whom I know, another cousin of mine and Thomas’s is wed to his son.”

  It was her turn to go completely quiet. He glanced over while looping the latigo through the ring on the end of the cinch, and to his consternation, her eyes welled.

  “Miss Taylor.” He dropped the strap, mid-pull, and leaned toward her for emphasis. “This was none of your fault. You’d no cause to suspect anything amiss, either with my cousin, or—or with your friend Sally.”

  She swiped at the tears with the back of her hand. “I know this, with my head, but my heart says otherwise.”

  He stared at her for a moment, as an untoward impulse rose up in him to pull her into his embrace. ‘Twould be as comforting for him as her, he’d suspect, but they were of too new an acquaintance for such a thing. “God is greater than our heart, and knoweth all things,” he quoted.

  Hope glinted in her gaze, at the truth of his words. He reached for her hand and clasped it between both of his. “I promise you again, I’ll make every effort not just to relay your message to your friend, but if anything at all may be done for her, to accomplish that as well.”

  She sniffled and swallowed, her fingers stirring against his palm. “Thank you, ever so much.” Her eyes came back to his, dark and luminous even in the dusk of the stable. “And I’ll be praying for you, every day.”

  Who was he to this girl, that she should care? But he’d likely need every one of those prayers.

  Chapter Five

  Yesterday, the wilderness had been cold and forbidding, but with a wild beauty that entranced Ben. Today it held a definite air of menace. Every crackle of leaves brought his head aroun
d, and every fellow traveler earned second and third glances, with suspicion layered generously into casual greetings to strangers.

  The station on the Little Rock Castle River came into view, and Ben easily found Farris’s Tavern. His gut clenched. This—this was the last place Thomas had been seen alive. If indeed the reports were true, that is.

  And he was about to find out.

  He swung down from Ivy, looking about. It was yet full daylight, with a handful of folk going about their business. They eyed him with the same suspicion he’d been regarding others with all day—and was doubtless regarded with in turn.

  Slinging his saddlebags over one arm, he stepped onto the porch and took off his hat before entering. A middle-aged man in shirt and waistcoat over worn breeches stood near a sideboard, setting down a tray of sliced breads, but the abruptness of his turn toward Ben betrayed an unease as well. “Welcome, traveler,” the man said, but with no hint of humor. “Come in and warm yourself.”

  Ben nodded with a word of thanks, and set his baggage and hat on a nearby table before approaching the hearth. “Jim Farris, is it?”

  The man didn’t even blink. “Aye.”

  “I am Benjamin Langford. Cousin to Thomas Langford, who lodged here recently, and I believe to your daughter-in-law Jane as well.”

  That did bring a response—instant stillness on Farris’s part, and a sudden paleness of his otherwise ruddy countenance. “I—deeply regret—have you already heard the news?”

  Ben nodded. “I have. I’d appreciate hearing your telling of it though.”

  “Of course.” Farris turned toward the back of the room. “Coffee, or something stronger? I’ll be but a moment.”

  “Coffee is fine, and much appreciated as well.”

  To the sound of the man’s retreating footsteps, Ben put his head down and sighed.

  So, it was true.

  A pattering footfall came from the rear of the building, and a light, feminine voice. “Ben! It is you!”

  He looked up to see the pale but glad face of Jane as she ran to throw her arms around him. With a little laugh, he embraced her in turn. “It is, indeed. And how are you faring, my cousin?”

  “I—” She caught her breath and stepped back from him, a shadow falling over her gaze again. “I am well enough. But so very grieved over Thomas!”

  “Aye, ‘tis why I’ve come. I was supposed to be meeting up with him soon.”

  Her hands knotted in her apron. “’Tis so terrible, what happened. But Papa Jim said he’d tell you all that.”

  And here came Farris now, bearing two steaming cups of coffee. He handed one off to Ben then reached for a chair and indicated Ben should sit before grabbing another for himself. Jane whisked the platter of sweet bread off the sideboard and offered that to Ben before taking a slice as well and settling nearby.

  Farris sipped his coffee, regarding Ben over the rim of the cup as Ben tasted his own. “How much do you know already of the matter?”

  “That Thomas met up here with a rather ill-favored group of travelers, two men and three women, and that he bought them breakfast before setting out with them on—what day was it? December 12? And that his body was found by cattle drovers and brought here.”

  “Found by drovers but taken to Stanford.”

  “Oh, my mistake,” Ben said.

  Farris nodded grimly. “Understandable. I went up there to help identify his body. Man by the name of David Irby was there as well, and helped in the task.”

  “I know Irby, yes. They were supposed to be traveling together.”

  “Well, Irby had gone on to Frankfort a few days before. He told me how they was particular to keep track of expenses, but that account book has not been found as of yet. Young Langford was tomahawked, and his body stripped and mutilated. But we knew him by a missing tooth, here.” Farris pointed to his own lower jaw.

  “That’s Thomas, to be sure,” Ben said softly, and stared at the sweet bread in his hand.

  “We buried him again—your other cousin in Stanford, Stephen, can show you where.”

  “Buried again? You mean—?”

  “Aye, we had to exhume the body to identify it. Cold as it is, thankfully the job wasn’t as gruesome as I’d have feared, although it was bad enough.”

  Ben swallowed heavily. This circumstance was becoming more and more gruesome. “I thank you—most heartily—for all of that.” He finished the bread, hardly tasting it, then downed another gulp of coffee before curling both hands around the cup. “The folk he left with—I met someone at a station up the way who discovered an unexpected connection and offered some clues as to who they are and where they came from.”

  “Oh?”

  “They call themselves the Harpes. Micajah and Wiley, and they lived for a while in Knox County, Tennessee. The wife of the younger is named Sally, and is a minister’s daughter.”

  Jane gasped, exchanging a shocked glance with Farris. “That poor thing. Who’d have thought it?”

  Farris scowled. “Harpe, you say? They introduced themselves as the Roberts family. How’s this other person connected?”

  “It’s Rachel Taylor, at the trading post by the same name. She was friends with Sally and actually attended their wedding, with a schoolmate of mine who stood as witness for the same.”

  “Huh. Fancy you meeting up here, under such circumstances. No more unlikely, I suppose, than you and Thomas Langford and all your connections hereabouts.”

  “No,” Ben said, and sipped at the bitter brew, already cooling beyond his taste. “So, I was told that Thomas was careless in showing his money when paying for breakfast that morning.”

  Farris nodded, gazing into the fire for a moment. “He was careless in more than that, and little wonder. He’d purchased whiskey the evening before and sipped at his flask all through breakfast. Offered some to the men as well. He was very generous,” Farris said with a roll of his eyes.

  Oh God … Ben shook his head slowly. “He was ever too fond of strong drink.”

  “He was also quite loose of tongue,” Jane added. “He’d said some trifling thing that got the other men’s dander up, and which I hadn’t the patience for either, but he was quick to offer apology and assure me that he’d not offend me for all in his saddlebags, which was worth five hundred pounds.”

  “I warned him he shouldn’t be so free to show all the contents of his purse. And the other travelers heartily concurred and made a great show of their gratitude for breakfast in including him in their party that day.” Farris grimaced. “Just recalling how they watched him makes me shiver. I pulled him aside and cautioned him against going with them, but he assured me all would be well.”

  Releasing a slow breath, Ben stared into his coffee then set the mug on the hearth, leaning his elbows on his knees and covering his face with his hands.

  If he’d but been here …

  “I hope you don’t blame yourself,” Farris said, very quietly. “Judging by the looks of these men, they’d not have hesitated in murdering the both of you.”

  Straightening, Ben scrubbed his hands across his face, then up and through his hair. “His father feared this sort of thing would happen. He was to stay with Irby, or wait for me.”

  Farris’s eyes narrowed. “He was of age and should have been sensible to the dangers.”

  “Not quite of age. And sensible never entered his vocabulary,” Ben said.

  “How old was he?” Jane asked.

  “Eighteen.”

  She tsked and shook her head. “Old enough to know, aye.”

  The coffee and sweet bread lay heavy in Ben’s gut. Lord God, what do I do now?

  The obvious answer was to continue with the plan he’d already come up with, to join the posse and do what he could to find the Harpes and bring them to justice. A strange task for one who’d read law, perhaps, but it felt right.

  He’d not be able to face Uncle Ben unless he’d done everything he could to see these men answer for their crimes.

  Not t
o mention the promise he’d made Rachel regarding Sally.

  “What a perfectly wretched circumstance, to be sure,” Farris said.

  “Absolutely,” Ben muttered. He almost could not bear the pity in their faces. “Is it too late then to join the posse?”

  Farris shook his head, more slowly. “I think not. You’ll need to ride for Stanford right away though.”

  Ben chewed his cheek. “And that section of the Road holds its own perils, from what I’ve heard.”

  The other man nodded.

  So he could either go on his own and risk being waylaid, or wait for someone else to come, and then possibly find himself in a situation similar to Thomas’s, or arrive too late to do anything useful.

  He blew out a breath. “I will wait until morning and then go, regardless.”

  Farris nodded briskly. Jane, however, just shook her head, frowning.

  Rachel woke from a troubling dream to the sound of the wind howling around the corner of the building. Seldom did she hear it, for the snugness of their log building, but tonight, when every little creak and moan put her on edge, she supposed it was no wonder.

  She lay there, wide awake, listening. A tendril of light shone through a crack between the shutter—moonlight. The full would not be for several nights yet, but still it beckoned, despite the wind and chill. Rachel slipped out from under the covers and, pulling off the topmost quilt, flung it around herself then tiptoed to the window.

  Easing back the shutter, she was careful to stay to the side and scan everything within sight before shifting, very slowly. The other buildings of the station, the stable, the street beyond—all were still, no one in sight, and the trees beyond the only things in motion.

  Somewhere out there, in this moonlit, windblown night, was Sally. Not just in the company of very bad men, but expecting a baby soon, by the sounds of it. Had they anywhere to go? Had she a woman to be with her when her time came, besides the other two in her company?