His words seemed to appease Brian, who took a step back, and Rosalind felt herself relax slightly knowing there wasn’t going to be a brawl.
But then Brian looked down at Joe, and over at her. “But Joe’s got reason. Hasn’t that wife of his been making a fortune off feeding us all these days? What’s she going to do now, now that we’re back in civilization? She won’t be having us as customers no more. I suppose it’s a good enough reason, extending their business a little longer so she could make some more money.”
Rosalind jumped to her feet. “That’s a lie. My father would never do any such thing. Like all of you, he was counting on that bonus for getting to Noelle in time, so we have enough money to build our boarding house. Without that bonus, we won’t have enough.”
Jace Turner stepped forward. “But you will if you keep feeding us and charging us for it.”
Rosalind took a step toward him. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Surely you know your numbers well enough to do the figuring that even if we fed everyone for an entire month, it wouldn’t nearly make the kind of profit we’d get from that bonus.”
Before Jace could answer, Hawk jumped in front of her. With his back to her, and facing Jace, he said, “That’s enough, all of you. We don’t have all the facts here. All we know is there’s a hole in the bridge, Joe’s dead, and I found some fuses for dynamite. That doesn’t prove Joe did it, because we don’t even know that these fuses came from that explosion. Who knows, Joe might have seen what the person was doing, taken the fuses to try to stop him, and been killed as a result. None of us know anything, and every one of you knows that Joe was a good man. He wouldn’t do this.”
He stepped back a little, forcing Rosalind also to move backward. “Now you all leave Miss Creary be. She’s got a father to bury, and the family to talk to.”
He turned to Moses, who always seemed to be by his side. “You go get some of your best men to start digging the grave so we can give Joe a proper burial.”
As Moses nodded, Hawk turned to Brian. “You gather your men and stand guard over this body. Someone get something to cover it for decency’s sake until we can get a wagon.”
He put his hand on the gun that always rested at his hip. Rosalind had heard talk that Hawk was a notorious lawman. One of the fastest guns in the West, Hawk had once killed an entire gang of outlaws with his six-shooters before any of them could even draw, if the stories were true. Though some of these men might talk tough to Hawk, her father had once told her that they were all terrified of him and what he was capable of. No one would ever cross Hawk.
Another man came riding up on Hawk’s horse. “Here’s your horse, sir. Just like you asked.”
Hawk nodded as the man dismounted and handed him the reins. “Thanks.”
Then he turned to Rosalind. “Reggie here is going to take you home to tell your mother. Ordinarily, I would do the work myself, but someone’s got to notify the sheriff and the good people of Noelle about the tragedy that happened here today.”
The deep sadness in Hawk’s voice made her wonder if he wasn’t more upset about the tragedy than he’d been letting on. She thought about offering him her sympathy, which was silly, considering it was her father who died. But maybe they could comfort each other.
Another crazy thought, but she couldn’t help thinking it all the same. Despite the fact that Hawk treated her like a pesky mosquito and her father often went on and on about Hawk’s bad reputation, there was something about him she’d always liked. Dozens of workers proposed to her and her sisters daily, and some even came up with some not so honorable offers. She’d turned them all down of course, but sometimes, she’d wished for Hawk to take her in his arms and tell her how much he appreciated having her in the camp.
Absolute nonsense. And why would she even think of it, when she’d have to tell her family about her father? But as she looked over at the man who was to escort her home, she found herself wishing she had the strength of Hawk by her side instead.
2
By the time Hawk made it to town, there was already some commotion going on about a missing woman, and the townspeople’s plans to get her back. He pulled Charlie Hardt, the mayor, aside. “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you,” he said. “There’s been trouble at the mine, and while I’m really here to speak with Sheriff Draven, I thought you at least ought to know. The bridge has been destroyed.”
Before Charlie could answer, Sol Sheridan, a loudmouth Hawk had encountered before when coming into town, stepped forward. “What’s this about the bridge being destroyed? I knew that bridge was a bad idea.” Sol turned to the gathered crowd. “Did you hear that? I’ve been telling you all that building the bridge was a foolhardy action, and no good would come of it. But did any of you listen? No.”
“Now you just wait a minute,” Hawk said. “None of the problems you thought would happen with the bridge actually happened. No, what happened to the bridge was sabotage, plain and simple. Which is why I’m here for the sheriff. I need someone impartial to help us investigate. We’ve got a man dead and a hole in the bridge.”
Marshal Charles Gant, otherwise known as Bad Luck Chuck, who seemed to turn up like a bad penny when people least expected it, stepped forward. The last conversation Hawk had had with Chuck, Hawk had told him that the next time the two of them saw one another, it would be Hawk turning himself in for finally killing his wife’s murderer. Sometimes things didn’t work out as people planned. And knowing that Hawk would have to go to the railroad board in defeat would be one more way life seemed to have it out for Hawk.
“I’m aware of what happened to the bridge,” Gant said. “I was just filling the mayor in. Apparently, three men were paid off to set off an explosion to act as a diversion to help Vernon Fink get away with kidnapping Dorcas Minx. Obviously, his plan failed.”
But the plan didn’t fail, not all of it. His bridge lay in ruins. And while Gant’s matter of fact statement of what had happened made it seem like an open and shut case, something in Hawk’s gut told him that there was more to the story. That had always been the difference between Hawk and Gant. Gant liked to close the book on a situation too easily or wanted to wait for more information or more evidence to act on things. That’s what had gotten Hawk’s wife killed. Hawk had wanted to act, and Gant had said to wait. Waiting had given the gang enough time to come up with their plan to kill Beth. Had they gone after the gang when Hawk had wanted to, Beth would still be alive, the men would be in prison instead of dead, and maybe Hawk could have gotten all of them and prevented future crimes.
But no, Gant had to be cautious. And the bad luck of Chuck, at least for Hawk, was that Hawk had lost everything because Gant had wanted to do the right thing.
Hawk looked him up and down. “What are you doing here? This doesn’t seem like one of your usual haunts.”
The other man shrugged like he wasn’t standing in front of the man whose life he’d ruined. “I’ve got a few things I’m working on. Was able to lend a hand a bit around here. Might stick around a while, because things are starting to get interesting.”
Gant looked directly at Sol as he spoke, and Hawk knew there was more to the story than the other man was saying. But Hawk and Gant had an understanding about getting involved with each other’s business. And this was definitely Hawk’s business. Gant had blown off Hawk’s suspicions about the case being bigger than just the gang. He’d even told Hawk to find a new hobby, that his investigation of the man who’d gotten away was nothing more than a grieving man’s attempt at making sense of something that didn’t make sense.
Which was probably what Gant would say about the feeling in Hawk’s gut now.
But he knew this wasn’t a random crime designed to cover up a young woman’s kidnapping. Someone was trying to sabotage the railroad, and Hawk was going to find out why.
“So you know about the murder of one of my men,” Hawk said, challenging Gant.
Gant nodded slowly. “You did mention a d
ead man. Who is it?”
Sheriff Draven came around the corner, joining them. “I think this is a conversation for my office,” he said inclining his head toward the gathering crowd.
He’d seen enough angry mobs to know that this one was entirely justified in their despair. It wasn’t just Hawk’s men counting on the railroad to arrive tomorrow, but these people as well.
So many dreams had been dashed on this day. The men wouldn’t get the bonuses, Noelle wouldn’t get its railroad, the Creary family had lost a devoted family member, and Hawk wouldn’t be standing in front of the railroad board in triumph. Instead, it would be a moment of shame where they blamed him for once again messing up a big project they were counting on. And any answers he thought he might get about his wife’s death wouldn’t be forthcoming.
Once inside the sheriff’s office, Hawk explained what he had seen, and also listened to the account of what had happened with the kidnapping of a young lady from town, Dorcas Minx, and Gant’s role in rescuing her. According to Gant, a former suitor, Vernon Fink, had kidnapped her and paid three men to set off an explosion as a diversion. At the moment, Fink wasn’t talking, and instead demanded a lawyer. Given that he was from one of Denver’s prestigious families, Gant had to send him to a neighboring town where the facilities were nicer and more secure than Noelle’s tiny jail.
Based on Gant’s summary of events, he already considered the case open and closed.
“What about my man?” Hawk asked. “Joe Creary was a good man, one of the best workers, and he left behind a family. We need to find out who killed him.”
Gant nodded. “Is there a chance that he was one of the three men Fink paid off to create a distraction?”
“No. Joe was as straight as an arrow. The other men often resented him because of his interference in their activities when Joe thought they were getting into too much trouble. Joe’s daughter said he was headed to the saloon tent to keep the men’s celebrations in line. We finished the railroad, and everyone was excited about getting their bonuses. But some of the men sometimes let their celebrations get out of hand. Joe was counting on that finishing bonus. He wouldn’t have wanted their shenanigans to stand in the way of anyone getting it.”
As he spoke, he tried getting a read on Gant’s reaction. There was a time when he’d known the man well enough almost to be able to read his mind. They’d worked together for a long time, and had it not been for the events leading to Beth’s death, Hawk would have said that he trusted the other man with his life. But trusting Gant had gotten Beth killed, and Hawk wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Draven, though, was another story. Hawk had encountered him a couple of years ago, during one of Hawk’s less than exemplary citizen moments. Hawk couldn’t even rightly remember what all had transpired, but as with all of Hawk’s recent troubles, it had begun with a bottle and ended in a brawl. He’d spent a couple of days in jail, and Draven had sent him off with some speech about knowing Hawk had once been a good man, and he needed to reclaim that piece of himself, so he didn’t end up on the business end of a noose. Hawk had told him to save himself the trouble because that was exactly where he would end up, and he didn’t mind so much, because it was worth the service to the greater good.
When Hawk had first come to town, Draven had pulled him aside and told him he didn’t want any of Hawk’s kind of trouble. Well, here they were. And while Hawk didn’t start this trouble, he fully intended to finish it.
“Could Creary have stumbled upon someone setting up the explosives and been killed trying to stop them?” Draven asked.
Hawk pulled the fuses out of his pocket. “That’s my theory. I found these in Creary’s pocket. The men at the camp don’t know this about him, but he was terrified of explosives. I think he either took them away from the real culprits to try to stop them, or he was killed, and they were planted on him to frame him.”
Gant looked at him like he was being ridiculous. “Why would anyone want to frame him?”
Hawk gave him the look that terrified most lowlifes. “Because anybody with half a brain knows that when I find out who did this, the culprits are going to pray they aren’t left alone with me for long before their hanging.”
Unfortunately, Gant didn’t see himself as a lowlife and had seen that expression on Hawk’s face too many times before.
“That bloodlust of yours is going to see you hung right along with them,” he said.
Draven nodded. “That’s exactly what I told him the last time I ran into him.” Draven looked over at Hawk. “You were a good lawman once. I’ve heard enough of Gant’s stories to know the role you played in a lot of his biggest arrests. So why not use those skills for good, and we’ll all get to the bottom of this?”
Hawk stared at Gant. “You mean like you solved my wife’s murder?”
Gant stared right back. “You already done killed them all.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’re not an accountant because you sure don’t know how to count. There were six of them that day at the bank. I killed five. One got away.”
Gant groaned like Hawk knew he would. According to Gant, Hawk should be happy that he’d gotten five. Especially since the first one Hawk shot was the one who’d murdered his wife. In Gant’s world, that made everything even. But that barely scratched the surface.
A strange squeal came from the corner of the room. Hawk turned to see a mousy snip of a man shaking with delight. “You’re The Hawk,” he said. “And I’ve heard that story about you killing all those men. So many times, you hear stories, then you find out they were greatly exaggerated. But here you are. And you just admitted to it. What’s it like, shooting so fast and accurate?”
Hawk glared at him. “You don’t want to know what it’s like, killing a man. Because let me tell you, the more you do it, the easier it gets. And if you’ve been listening to stories about me, you know that all a body has to do is look at me wrong to get shot.”
He rested his hand on his gun, and the man looked like he was going to soil himself on the spot. Gant stepped in front of Hawk. “He’s joking, Elwood. Hawk has never killed a man who didn’t deserve it, and even though he’s a bit cranky right now, annoying him has never been a crime.”
Then Gant looked over at Hawk. “This is Elwood Hunter, the fiancé of the woman who was kidnapped. He’s also a writer, and he likes to collect stories about men like us. More importantly, if you’re nice to him, and tell him some of your stories, maybe the two of you will get to talking, and in the course of your conversation, you’ll find out that Dorcas saw the three men we suspect caused the explosion, and we could easily find out if your man were among them.”
If Gant was trying to make him feel like a fool, it wasn’t working. That condescending attitude might work on others, but Hawk knew that Gant only used that tone with Hawk when he was trying to shut Hawk up. But why? And why couldn’t Gant have just said that Dorcas saw the men, as opposed to only pointing out that a guy unlikely to share that information knew who they were?
Hawk nodded at Elwood. “Then I guess I won’t shoot you. But you should probably know that I’m not a lawman anymore, and frankly, I think working with most of them is a waste of time. After all, Gant’s incompetence got my wife killed, and the people responsible are still out there.”
Then he glared over at Gant. “You still want him to hear my stories?”
This time, Gant had the courtesy to flinch. At least it was some sign that maybe the man felt bad about what had happened. But obviously, not bad enough to do any of them any good.
Turning his attention to Draven, Hawk said, “look. We can stand around here jawing all day. But that isn’t going to bring a good man back to life. And it sure isn’t going to catch the men who did it. So what’s the plan? It better be a good one, because if I don’t like it, you’re on your own.”
Elwood stepped forward, wide-eyed. “I’ll be happy to tell you everything I know. Dorcas too. You say a man was killed?”
Finally. S
omeone who could get to the point of everything that was happening. Hawk nodded slowly. “A good man. One with a family. There’s folks at the camp who believe he did it, and I want to find out the truth. Bring his killers to justice.”
“It would be my honor to provide assistance,” Elwood said.
Gant and Draven were noticeably silent. Not that Hawk was surprised. They didn’t trust him, and frankly, Hawk didn’t trust them, either.
“Good,” Hawk said. “I have to go to the railroad office to let them know what happened, but I imagine it will be a short conversation. So once they’re done with me, we can head over to the Golden Nugget Saloon for a drink.”
Draven stepped forward. “Do you think that’s a good idea?” He looked at Hawk pointedly, and Hawk couldn’t blame him, considering his past with Draven.
“I don’t drink anymore. But the saloon seems to be the only place for socializing in a town like this, and I haven’t met a barkeep who can’t brew a strong cup of coffee given the right incentive.”
“They also serve milk,” Elwood said. “I don’t know if I should tell you that, because they have a hard enough time supplying me. But I’d gladly give up a glass for you.”
Hawk shrugged. Though the guy was annoying at first, there was something about him that was starting to grow on him. He didn’t like talking about his past, but if it made this guy happy, he might share a story or two. And maybe, if Gant played nice, Hawk wouldn’t tell the story about Gant being bucked off a horse into a pile of manure. Hawk wouldn’t get too nasty in his storytelling, considering Gant knew about that time when Hawk had been bathing in the stream, preparing to call on Beth back when they were courting, and one of Beth’s other suitors had stolen all his clothes, forcing Hawk to ride into town buck naked. Though Beth must’ve liked what she’d seen because she had married him a month later.
But maybe Beth would have been better off had she married the other guy. At least she might still be alive.
Rosalind: A Thanksgiving Day Bride (Brides of Noelle Book 8) Page 2
