Cleantha took hold of his arm, stopping him. “Bring Dodie home, Ryder.”
He patted her hand and kissed her forehead. “I can’t promise that. She’s all grown up, tough and smart. She’s got a taste of how the world works. Without Twyla-Rose and Grace here in Laura Creek, I don’t think she would stay here either.”
“But, she has me and Royce and Jewel. We are her home.”
Chapter Eighteen
A crowd gathered outside the telegraph office. Brother Jewel and his pals. Uncle Quinn and Ryder’s sister Tru had closed the doors to the mercantile and feed to hear the news. The Buttrums and the church ladies, all of them slowed down Ryder’s intent to get out of town quickly without any fuss. At the telegraph office, with the door open so all could hear, Ryder repeated his purpose and suspicions to Sheriff Telt Longtree and Telt’s wife, cousin Wren, and the telegrapher Lottie Terrell and her husband, Percy.
Finally, about to mount up and make his escape, Telt and Royce took hold of the Sarge’s bit, stopping Ryder from leaving and insisting they be allowed to join him.
“We’ll get our gear together. We could be on the trail by noon,” Royce said.
“I know the sheriff in Cherry Grove. I can help,” said Telt, his hand on Ryder’s shoulder.
Impatient, his tolerance stretched to the limit, Ryder barked in protest. “No, you were gone for the whole month of August helping me do my job.”
A gasp of recriminating astonishment went up from the crowd around him, heads shaking and tsk, tsk, tsks’ floating on the morning breeze. He shook his head and looked to the sky, begging for forbearance. Ruthlessly, he tied his bedroll onto the pommel of his saddle. The leather thong broke. He cussed, growled, and threw it aside. “I can’t bring you in on every detail,” he said to Royce.
“You’ve helped me today by informing authorities,” he said to Telt.
To everyone gathered he said, “I have to get going. I need to reach Cherry Grove before dawn tomorrow. Dodie and I need some time with training and relearning tricks. I’d like to catch up to the circus before it reaches Cherry Grove. The weather is better. I should make good time. It’s downhill, after all. I’ll send a wire tomorrow.” He didn’t wait to hear what anyone had to say. He threw his leg up and over Sarge’s well-muscled back, settled in the saddle, and rode off without a backward glance.
Leading Magi and the cob he’d borrowed from the sheriff in Cherry Grove, he started down the mountain. The day was bitterly cold but dry, and he made good time reaching La Grande a little after sundown and Cherry Grove well before dawn. Using the orchard as cover, he made his way to the spot where he and Dodie rendezvoused. After allowing the horses to drink from the canal, he tied them off deeper into the orchard where the grass was tall enough to hide them.
Driven by a wild need to assure himself Jo was all right and safe in her tent, he rushed through the orchard, shoving aside the low-hanging branches. At the big walnut tree, he stopped. Quietly, slowly moving forward, he noted no lights in the cabins, no light in the tent, no traffic at the outhouse. He approached Jo’s tent. Hoisting one leg at a time over the crib wall of the tent, he entered. The air around him, dank and cold, stopped him. He blinked, waited, and listened. Nothing. In the dark, he reached out to touch the stove. Cold, cold as ice.
“Jo?” The quiet, the chilling stillness, captured his breath and stopped his heart. “Jo? It’s me,” he said, his voice a whisper. No softly-whispered greeting answered. No rhythmic sighs of a body deep in slumber, only an alarming quiet filled the freezing air. On his knees, his hands searched the empty cot. No blankets, no quilt, no down pillow, only the vague, rosy sweet scent of her remained.
Although good sense cried don’t do it, he lit the lantern in its place above the stove. Holding it up, he scanned the limited space. Her yellow and blue trunk sat alone, no books or papers or cups sat on its closed lid. At the tent flap, on the clothesline, one forgotten, filmy scarf hung limp and abandoned. The cold stove, the lack of bedding, and no clothing prodded his heart to speed up into full-blown panic.
“Damn. Damn them to hell! They’ve got her.” He spun around once, stopped, and set the lantern on top of the stove. The clank echoed in the stillness, the emptiness.
Couldn’t’ve been gone long, not more than a day. Probably still in town waiting, holding her, waiting for the circus. Shouldn’t have left her alone. Should’ve stayed with her. Knew they were going to take her. Where…where would they take her? She’s here somewhere. Right here. I’d bet money on it. The Joneses…they got her locked up somewhere. Right here. I’ll tear this place apart. I’ll kill’em. I’ll kill’em if they’ve hurt her, drugged her. Oh, God! Oh, God.
His chest hurt and his ribs ached holding back his need to howl like a wounded wolf. Fist between his teeth, shaking, he crumpled, landing on the cot. His head in his hands, he started to rock back and forth chanting ancient curses, crying, trying to think where to start his search.
»»•««
Unable to sleep on the cold hard board they’d assigned her next to the back entrance to the cottage, Jo went outside, her arms folded across her chest against the cold. She snorted to think she actually missed her little stove and sagging cot.
The light in the darkness caught her eye. Her tent, someone was in her tent. Gerald, the little creep. With her out of the way, he’d decided to do a little snooping through her things.
He’d snitched on her right away, of course, reported to Mrs. Jones she’d been invited into the cottage and out of the rain. Funny, the old crone hadn’t objected too strongly, she’d simply said they could do as they pleased as long as no one voiced a complaint.
Jo started across the lawn. The frost on the grass wet her woolen socks. She cinched up the rope belt on her robe, preparing the scold she meant to use to strip the hide off of Gerald, the sneaky worm.
The keening chant coming from her tent stopped her from barging in. Quietly, slowly, she spread the flap of the tent back an inch to peer inside. Ryder? Ryder, his black hair loose, falling over the hands cradling his face, sat on the edge of her cot, rocking back and forth, sobbing—quietly wailing. His despair ripped at the core of her heart.
“Ryder?” she said—her breath a vapor, her voice a bare whisper. He didn’t lift his head. Letting the tent flap close behind her, she stepped into the light and put her hand on his bowed head. “Ryder?”
His black, black, watery eyes smudged dark with fatigue stared up at her, his disbelief there to read. His lips parted. His face was wet with tears and his bronzed complexion had gone pale. He pulled in a huge breath and attempted to stand. Teetering, he fell back, taking her with him to land half lying, half sitting, on the cot.
“My Jo,” he said, his voice thick with tears, his warm lips moving against her forehead. “Safe, my Jo.”
Pulling back to see his face, she meant to ask him where he’d been. His eyes closed, his breathing deep and even, she thought he’d fallen asleep or fainted. “Oh, no you don’t,” she said, giving his jaw a firm pat. “No falling asleep on me, not until you tell me where you’ve been. Dodie said you’d gone hunting.”
“I didn’t mean animals,” Dodie said, slipping inside the tent unannounced.
Jo lurched aside, startled, and nearly slipped off the cot.
Ryder groaned and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.
“You weren’t in your bed. I thought you might’ve gone to the outhouse. Then I saw the light out here and thought it might be my brother had returned.”
Jo tried to get free of Ryder’s embrace, but he had a firm hold of her. “I can’t….sleep on that, that board,” she said and slapped his hand. Wiggling, she set herself free and came awkwardly to her feet. “It’s cold in here. I’ll start a fire and heat some water for tea.”
Dodie shook her head at her brother, who lay there, eyes closed, his hand over his heart, sprawled half on the cot, long legs stretched out and in the way of the exit. “I’ll get your quilt and pillow.”
“Thank y
ou,” Jo said, without giving her a glance.
Angry and not fully understanding the reason why, Jo chucked wood into the little stove and thunked the iron plate back in place. She dipped water into her kettle and set it down with a clank to heat.
Ryder rose and came to stand behind her, his lips close to her ear, arms to his side. He said, “I…I came in here and found you gone. Your bed cold. The stove cold. I thought they’d taken you, stolen you from me.”
Slowly she turned into his body, her fingers sliding up to his tear-stained face and then into his black hair, her gaze probing the depths of his dark eyes. “It was raining and cold. The girls insisted I join them in their cabin. I wanted to stay out here and wait for you. Tell me, where did you go, and why?”
“First, I have to do this,” he said, his lips seeking her mouth, his arms encircling her.
Chapter Nineteen
A discreet cough alerted Ryder his little sister had returned. Jo turned her head to his shoulder and pushed away.
“Good night, or maybe I should say good morning,” Dodie grumbled and then deposited Jo’s bedding on the cot. Averting her eyes, she hastily fumbled with the flap on the tent.
“Wait,” Ryder said, his hand out to stop her. “Sarge and Magi wait for us in the orchard.”
Dodie came to a halt and spun around to face him, mouth agape, black eyes round and blinking.
He put his hand on her shoulder. “It’s time you leave this place.”
Tired, no, more than tired, sleep deprived and hungry, the wisdom Ryder heard in his voice surprised him. He’d approached a crossroads. What came next, he couldn’t say, but it would change everything. Life would not be the same. His life would never be the same. And Jo, Jo, he prayed, would walk with him wherever that might lead.
“Pack up your things, Melody. Do it without notice. You will not return to this place.” She closed her mouth and then opened it, speechless. She nodded her head.
Jo tugged on his coat sleeve. He ignored her, speaking to Dodie. “I’ll explain tomorrow. Meet me tomorrow, Melody, in the orchard at the usual hour.”
Dodie blinked, swallowed, and asked, “Can I leave a note for Twyla-Rose and Grace?”
“Say only you’re with your brother. No more.”
Muttering to herself, Dodie shrugged her shoulders. “How could I say more? You haven’t told me anything.”
He reached out to hold the tent flap open for her. “I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I’ll have a better plan tomorrow. Right now I’m worried about the horses. I have to get them settled and make a place for us to work and sleep. I want to get them settled before I explain. No one must see us. No one must find out where we are or what we’re doing.”
Dodie shook her head at him. “That’s easy enough. I don’t know what we’re doing.”
“We’re going to work up an act, trick riding with Sarge and Magi—like we do for the Fourth of July.”
Dodie slapped her hand to his chest, her face lit up and eyes shining. “Trick riding? We’re gonna put on a show?”
He shushed her, putting a finger to her lips. “Yeah, a show. But we don’t have much time. We have to be ready by Friday. We’re gonna join the circus.”
“No,” Jo said, giving his sleeve a hard tug.
“Yessssss,” Dodie said, the word delivered in a gleeful hiss of anticipation while rubbing her hands together.
“Shush, the both of you, shush. Go now, Melody, and pack your gear before everybody gets up.”
Dodie gave him a dirty look, her lips pulled to the side in a sassy smile. “I know what to do,” she said and ducked out of the tent.
“The circus? Ryder, no,” Jo said pulling him around to face her.
He sat down on the cot, taking her with him. “Listen now,” he said, his arm around her waist, settling her on his lap. “The circus is owned by the Jaynes Brothers. Georgio and Rosa Jaynes have a circus act. They’re magicians. The Payasos Magicians. We have a man in jail, who we thought was the leader of the Payasos gang, Jacob Jaynes.”
Jo stared at him, her eyes bottomless silver pools. He waited for the revelation to sink in. “Payasos?”
He nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”
“The same as the train robbers?”
“Yes.”
“And Mr. and Mrs. Jones, they are connected?”
“All connected. The train robbers, the abductions, the school, Captain Jaynes, Ira Jaynes, alias Ira Jones, the magicians, all connected. Dodie and I’ll try to get inside and learn more. I’ve alerted Pinkerton and the sheriff here.”
“Where did you go? How did you find out all of this?”
He kissed her, holding her tight, savoring the warmth and softness of her body.
“I broke into the school office again, this time I searched the crone’s office. I found a flyer for the circus and a photo of people in circus costumes. I believe they’re relatives—Jaynes’ relatives.
“From there I went to Laura Creek. I couldn’t send a telegram from here. I didn’t know who might intercept it. And I needed our horses. Melody loves Magi. Mag’ll do anything for her. When they’re together, it’s as if they’re one animal. Sarge obeys her too. We’ve performed at the Fourth of July celebration and other celebrations in Laura Creek for years.”
“Where? Where will you stay? Where will you be, Ryder?”
“I have a place in mind. I’m not going to tell you because I want you to be able to say you don’t know when the Joneses start asking questions. And they will be asking a lot of questions.”
She looked down and folded her hands in her lap. “Yes, yes, I see.” She sat very still for a moment and then sagged back into his chest, her head going to his shoulder. “I wish you could stay here with me.”
Her words took his breath away. “That’s what I wish too. But…” He closed his eyes and wished very hard.
One finger to his lips, she said, “You don’t have to say anything more. I know. You have your work, and I have mine.” Finding his lips, she stopped him from uttering practicalities.
»»•««
Jo hadn’t meant to fall back to sleep, but she woke to find Ryder gone and Dodie’s voice asking her if she could come in. In the dark, groggy, dressed in her nightgown and robe, she untangled herself from her quilt and swung her feet to the floor. “Yes, yes, come in Dodie.”
Cautiously, balancing a stack of books cradled in one arm and an overstuffed ditty bag in the other, Dodie entered, eyes averted.
Jo managed a little smile and shook her head. “He’s not here. He had to leave to take care of the horses before it got light.” Wrapping the quilt around her shoulders, she went to the stove to poke at the coals and add fuel.
“Oh, sure. Ah, I’m pretty well packed up, but I had these books, and some mementos and trinkets I didn’t want to leave behind, but I can’t take them with me.” Dodie said, holding up a sagging ditty bag, heavy with content.
Jo waved her hand and put the kettle on the stove to heat water. “Yes, certainly, make use of the trunk. Store anything you need here with me.” She took down the tin of ground coffee and paused, staring into the tin. “Who knows where we’ll be, any of us, this time next week. Could very well be the end of the school, I’ll be unemployed. The girls will go to their homes.”
Dodie deposited her stack of books and the duffle in Jo’s travel trunk. “I think my brother has plans for your future.” She straightened and turned to leave. “If he doesn’t, I’ll pester him until he gets one.”
The tin of coffee still in her hand, she pulled Dodie in for a hug. “You be careful.”
Dodie patted her back. “You too.” Dodie left Jo hugging the tin of coffee to her breast, both girls sniffling back their tears.
The dull routine of the day fell into place. The hours slipped away. Jo had the horrible feeling this was the quiet before the storm. Chaos was sure to come. She marveled at Dodie’s contained composure. The girl gave no outward appearance of one about to set out on a risky adventure.
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At the end of the day, Dodie went about her chores, cleaning the kitchen, mopping the floors, filling the wood bins, and making the classrooms tidy. Jo offered to help. But Dodie shook her head at her and made a face. Jo backed away, afraid she’d given the game away and retired to her tent.
She tried to read but couldn’t concentrate. It had started to get dark, and she thought to light the lantern when inspiration hit. Exiting via Ryder’s method, she gathered up her skirt and swung her legs over the half wall. Her petticoat got hung up on a splinter of wood. Cursing, she disentangled herself without ripping her clothes. Under the pale light of dusk, she hurried to reach the cover of the big trees and the back stoop of the great hall.
Dodie, a duffle under one arm and a bundle tied up in a sheet under the other arm, jumped. Startled, she dropped her burdens.
“Sorry,” Jo whispered, taking a half step forward. “You’re meeting Ryder. I’m coming with you.”
“Fine,” Dodie said, retrieving her possessions off the floor. “But no talking. Gerald has big ears.”
Jo nodded and pressed her lips shut with two fingers. She moved aside, allowing Dodie to go ahead of her out the back door to the stoop. Dodie stopped, held up her hand, and peered into the shadows beneath the trees, looking both ways. She waved her hand. Jo followed her down the steps and into the trees.
Chapter Twenty
Ryder paced around and in between the horses. A bird shifted in the trees to his right. He stopped to listen. Magi whickered and bobbed her head. Dodie stepped out of the dark shadows beneath the apple trees and into the remaining twilight held within the opening. She dropped her bundle and rushed past him to wrap her arms around the neck of her childhood friend and companion, Magi.
Ryder chuckled to himself, hands on hips, and shook his head. A snap of a branch to his right put his senses on high alert. A flock of starlings rose up and shifted in tight formation to the west. He didn’t dare warn Dodie. He stepped back into the shadows, ready to defend her.
Jo and the Pinkerton Man Page 13
