“Thank you,” Rosalind and Jane said in unison, then turned to smile at each other before Rosalind continued. “We’d be delighted.”
As Julieta left out the back, the main restaurant door opened, and a group of men entered. At first, they were happily talking amongst themselves, but then one of them pointed Rosalind and Jane out and whispered something to the others.
One of the men turned to Nacho, who’d come back out front. “I’m surprised you haven’t thrown the likes of them out yet. Their family is bad luck in this town, and as surely as their father destroyed the bridge, they’ll destroy the rest of it as well.”
Nacho squared his shoulders. “There’s no bad luck that a person doesn’t make for themselves, Sol. These ladies are just as welcome here as you are, and anyone who says otherwise had best leave.”
The men glanced around at one another, then Sol said, “I’ve lost my appetite. Let’s go.”
One of the men, who looked to be similar in age to Rosalind and her sister said, “but you said this is the best food in town. I’ve only just gotten here, and I was greatly looking forward to it. Plus, I’m starving. With having to take the stage the rest of the way into town, the travel was hard, and the food subpar.”
“That cousin of yours has some fancy words to match that fancy name of his,” one of the men said, jostling Sol in the ribs.
“Romeo…” The other unidentified man said in a singsong voice.
The man who wanted to stay groaned. “The misfortunes of having scholarly parents,” he said.
“That’s all right,” the man who’d been teasing him said. “We’ve already got a wife here for you. We just need to go to the candy shop for your Juliet.”
“Her name is Julieta,” Fina snapped. “And she wouldn’t be interested in the likes of you. Now leave until you can return with better manners.”
Sol clapped Romeo on the shoulder. “We’d best be getting on. We can eat here another day, when the company is better.”
Though Sol glared at Rosalind and her sister, Rosalind noticed a mooney-eyed look on Romeo. She glanced over at Jane, who seemed to be staring right back. Everyone stared at Jane, whose golden hair shimmered in the light and always captured people’s attention. But since she always had the sweetest disposition, she never seemed to notice. Until now.
As the group of men left, Fina also seemed to notice where Jane’s attention had drifted. “There are plenty of better men than those in this town. Trust me. If a husband is what you’re after, I’ll take you around to meet Genevieve, and she’ll fix you right up with the right man for you.”
Fina glanced lovingly over at Nacho. “She did all right by me.”
Jane shook her head. “I have no use for a husband right now. My family needs me. I find it curious that there’s another set of parents in this world who would so unfortunately name their children.”
Rosalind laughed at her sister’s statement. There’d been many times in their lives when people had commented on her parents’ unconventional naming. But Rosalind had thought it a source of pride that her parents had been so well-educated and had chosen to do the same with their children.
“I don’t understand,” Fina said. “What you mean by unfortunately named?”
“Romeo is a name from Shakespeare. Which is how our parents named us. Horatio, Rosalind, Cordelia, and me.” Jane shook her head. “You wouldn’t believe the teasing we get.”
Fina still looked confused. “Who is the character named Jane in Shakespeare’s plays?”
Letting out a long sigh, Jane said, “There isn’t one. Jane is my middle name, after Jane Austen. My first name is too embarrassing, and my family knows better than to use it.”
Though Jane gave Rosalind a threatening look, Rosalind wouldn’t have said anything. She knew how sensitive her sister was about her given name, and that being her sister’s only flaw, it was easily overlooked. Even her parents referred to her as Jane, and her father had once said…
Rosalind took a deep breath. The unexpected wave of grief made her feel weak at the knees, and her chest tightened. When would it stop hurting so much? And when would Hawk come with more answers?
Though the marshal had said catching whoever had killed her father wouldn’t bring him back, maybe they could at least walk the streets freely again. Maybe people wouldn’t hate them so much, and maybe, in moments like these, when she wanted to cry because she missed her father so much, she could do so without people judging her for mourning a criminal.
6
Hawk pulled his hat off his head and wiped his brow. He’d ridden hard to get to Noelle before folks closed up for the day. He wanted to have a word with Sheriff Draven, but first, he needed something to eat. He’d been working hard, getting up early, and working through mealtimes to get everything done, so that no one could accuse him of neglecting his duties with the railroad.
As it was, they found fault with something he did every day. Their complaints were completely trumped up, of course, especially since he’d been looking a little deeper into these so-called mistakes, and was certain it was sabotage. Stakes didn’t just move themselves out of completed rail lines. Piles of timber didn’t just magically disappear. And supports didn’t just accidentally break.
He supposed his first stop should be the railroad office to talk to Stiles. But it seemed like every time he brought a complaint to the man, Stiles brushed him off. What was Stiles going to say about these findings?
Especially since Stiles’s hand-picked man, Brian, was often nowhere to be found when Hawk needed him. The last time he’d complained about Brian, Stiles had told him he was just jealous. Was he going to take this complaint seriously?
Probably not. But integrity and decency necessitated him at least going through proper channels. So he’d do the right thing, talk to Stiles, and then, bring his concerns to the sheriff. But first, food.
He entered Nacho’s Tacos and allowed the warm, refreshing smell of home-cooked food fill his nostrils. It was going to be a long evening, but at least, with Fina’s amazing cooking, he could handle it.
However, as he strode over to his usual table, something stopped him in his tracks. Rosalind. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. She was counting on him for answers, and all he had were more questions. She’d been sending him notes, inquiring as to the status of the case. But he had no answers for her. Once, he’d send her back a note that said he was working on it, and her next letter had asked him what that meant.
God save him from strong-willed women.
Except God hadn’t saved him from any of the other troubles in his life, so why would he think that God would give him a break from this one.
“Hawk.” Rosalind noticed him immediately and walked toward him. The gentle disturbance in the air her movement made brought her scent closer to him. The same gentle rose scent of her letters enveloped him, tormenting him as it always did.
Her sister Jane followed, and even though most people said Jane was the prettier one, she didn’t affect him the way Rosalind did. Why couldn’t Jane be the one asking him to look into their father’s death? But no, it was Rosalind who wrote him daily, asking for updates. Rosalind, who filled his dreams, hovering over him, demanding justice for her father.
“It’s nice to see you,” he said, hoping no one saw through his polite lie.
“Do you have news of my father?”
Always to the point. Unlike all the simpering misses who danced around their words, playing a game to draw men in, and annoying him with their cloying ways. He’d always wished for women to be more direct. But when faced with it, at least in Rosalind, he hated himself for making such a foolish wish. Hated Rosalind, for being what he wanted, but could never have.
“Nothing solid,” he said. “As I’ve mentioned, because the railroad has specifically asked for this case to be closed, it’s more difficult to investigate. There are men who believe your father was murdered, but the fact that it was so quickly covered up has them afraid to
talk.”
She didn’t look pleased with his answer, and he supposed he understood. Someone who spoke so directly and seemed to always think in black and white couldn’t possibly understand the idea that sometimes, to get what you wanted, you had to play the kind of games he despised. But, like everything else he compromised on, it was a means to an end, and the end justified the means.
Jane looked at him sympathetically. “They must be afraid of being killed as well.”
He nodded. “Exactly. When someone bad is lurking among you, you don’t want to do anything to draw attention to yourself that might get you killed. The men are on edge, and no one knows who or what to trust. It’s a delicate matter, and the only thing that will solve it is patience.”
He deliberately looked at Rosalind with that last word, wondering how he could get her to understand that patience was the only way to get what he wanted. If only Gant could see him now. The other man often accused Hawk of being impatient and unwilling to wait to see things through. But Hawk understood that there was a time for action and the time to wait.
The door to the restaurant opened, and Gant walked in, flanked by Sheriff Draven.
“We saw you ride in,” Gant said. “What’s the news from the railroad?”
He had plenty of news, none of which was fit to speak among these ladies. The restaurant was empty, save for Nacho and his family and the two Creary women. As he looked around, he realized he’d interrupted them all sharing a meal. His stomach rumbled.
Fina must’ve heard it because she gestured at the table they’d all been sharing. “Why don’t you join us? You can have something to eat as you share your news.”
Gant immediately strode over to one of the empty seats. “Don’t mind if we do,” he said.
Draven also took a seat, looking at Hawk expectantly.
He’d asked for their help, and it would seem odd for him to shut them out now.
“Anything you say to them, you can say in front of us,” Rosalind said. “I insist upon it. You keep telling me to be patient when it comes to information about my father’s murder. Once again, I was accosted by men at our boarding house construction site. You say that people at the camp are afraid of being killed. My family is subject to abuse. You need to tell us what’s going on so we can understand. If there are dangerous elements on the loose, we all deserve to know.”
Hawk let out a long sigh as he took the seat Fina indicated. “Joe Creary’s death didn’t end the sabotage at the railroad. People think the bridge was the beginning and end of it, but every day, when I go out to the job, I find small indications of sabotage. Supplies we’d laid out the night before are missing or moved, some of the stakes in the rail beds disappeared, and even some of the supplies I have stockpiled suddenly turn up short. It wasn’t adding up, and as I went back through my records, I realized this has been happening all along, but in small ways, so until I started doing digging, I hadn’t noticed.”
Everyone at the table looked shocked, except Gant, who nodded thoughtfully. And Rosalind, who turned her eagle eye gaze on Hawk. “Doesn’t that prove my father was innocent? Why don’t you tell people that to clear my father’s name?”
Hawk tried not to groan as Fina set the steaming plate in front of him. What he wanted to do was bury his face in the food after having not eaten all day. Having to explain himself to Rosalind meant delaying this gratification.
“The railroad claims all of my findings point to the incompetence of my workers. Because some of the things that have gone wrong are things I personally check to make sure they were right, I know this isn’t the case. The more I dig, the more I’m told to mind my own business. I could run to the paper right now and tell them to print an article with all of these things I found, but the railroad will simply come back and say that I’m wrong at best, and incompetent at worst.”
Fina nudged him. “Eat. You look half-starved, and the answers Rosalind seeks can wait.”
He glanced at Rosalind, who looked slightly embarrassed. It had probably just occurred to her that he hadn’t come to the restaurant in search of her, but in search of food. He tucked into his plate, trying to mind his manners, but overwhelmed by his hunger and the deliciousness of the food.
As he ate, Rosalind and Jane took turns talking about the plans for the boarding house, and how construction was coming.
Hearing about the sabotage they were facing as well as the taunts from various townspeople made him feel guilty for not doing more to check in with Rosalind. For not responding to her notes with questions of his own, inquiring about her family and life in the town. But he’d been so intent on keeping distance between them and protecting his heart, he’d neglected simple decency.
It was especially disturbing to him to see that many of the things the Creary women spoke about seemed to be news to Sheriff Draven.
“Why haven’t you reported these crimes?” Sheriff Draven asked. “Throwing rocks at women is a dangerous crime. I hate to think of anyone in my town facing such violence.”
Rosalind stared back at the sheriff in a way that made even Hawk shake in his boots. “Maybe because the last time I reported it, every single man denied being there, and all of them had alibis. You told me you couldn’t charge them. So what’s the point in putting myself through even more ridicule?”
Nacho’s brow furrowed. “But you can’t let them get away with it.” Then he looked over at the sheriff. “I did tell her to report this to you. She refused, but I’m happy to give you a statement. I didn’t recognize any of the men, but if I saw them again, I would.”
“I would appreciate it,” Sheriff Draven said. “Maybe it doesn’t look like we’re doing anything, but we take every crime seriously, and we will investigate. Eventually, these men will make mistakes, and it will give us enough to charge them and put them behind bars.”
Even though Sheriff Draven gave Rosalind a stern look, she didn’t shrink back. She seemed to straighten, squaring her shoulders like she was preparing for a fight.
“I don’t care about the bullies. I would be hit with a thousand rocks if it meant finding my father’s murder. Why aren’t you focused on solving this hideous crime?”
Hawk set his fork down and wiped his mouth. “We are. But sometimes, it takes time and patience to gather sufficient evidence to have irrefutable proof. I won’t have your father’s murderer getting away on a technicality.”
“So you know who did it?” she asked, looking painfully hopeful.
He didn’t know. And that was the part that killed them. But he’d learned enough to know that whatever was going on wasn’t just about her father’s murder, but about a larger plan to hurt the railroad to Noelle.
“I’m still examining the possibilities,” he said.
“What possibilities?” she asked. “Why do you treat me like a child incapable of understanding important things? My father is dead, and none of you seem interested in bringing his killer to justice.”
Tears streamed down her face, which she angrily brushed away. Fina put her arm around Rosalind, and it reminded Hawk of the one moment he’d let himself offer the same comfort to her, and how just as much as he cursed himself for his weakness, he also longed to do it again.
“He may not have been my father, but I want justice for Joe just as badly. He was a good man, one of the best I’ve known. But whoever did this carefully planned their crime and it’s going to take patience to solve it.”
“Now he learns,” Gant said, shaking his head. “Who would’ve thought it would’ve taken someone more stubborn than him to make him realize you can’t go charging off.”
Though Gant was mostly muttering under his breath, Hawk understood every word. He glared at his former boss. “There’s a time and place for both. We can sit around taking cheap shots at each other all night, or we can get down to work.”
Draven snickered, then quickly regained his composure. “So what do you know?”
Hawk went through everything he’d found, outlining how each of
the things that had gone wrong on the railroad happened under a different man’s watch. Even if it was someone’s incompetence that caused the damages to the railroad, Hawk couldn’t single out anyone as being more incompetent than another. That was the trouble in narrowing down the suspect.
As he wrapped up his findings, he looked over at Draven. “What about this Fink fellow? Have you had any success in getting him to talk yet?”
Draven shook his head. “Worse. He’s escaped. No one has seen or heard from him.”
Hawk let out a long sigh. “Which confirms my suspicions that there’s something bigger going on here. Fink paid three men to create a diversion so he could kidnap a young lady from Noelle. That diversion was the bridge explosion. Now, the railroad would have you believe that one of those three men was Joe Creary. It’s assumed, thanks to the railroad, that one of the other men is Horatio Creary. Which leaves a third unidentified man. Who is he? Even if we believe the railroad’s theory, we still have one man on the loose.”
“But the railroad’s theory is wrong,” Rosalind said, anguish in her voice.
Jane put her hand over Rosalind’s and squeezed it, and Hawk was grateful that Rosalind had so much support.
“I agree,” Hawk said evenly. “But we have to start somewhere. So the question is, who benefits from having people believe that theory?”
“The railroad is the one putting it out,” Draven said.
Hawk nodded. “And the ones telling me not to investigate. But I can’t figure out why. If the railroad is behind this, what do they have to gain from the situation? They’re losing money every day that the railroad is delayed. There is no logical reason why they would be involved. I’ve been able to gain access to some of the financial information which shows that if the railroad does not arrive in Noelle soon, they will go bankrupt.”
Gant looked at him with the kind of respect he’d once come to expect from the man. Back when they’d worked together, before everything went wrong, Hawk and Gant had been a team. Even though Hawk had been thinking a lot of uncomplimentary things about the other man, there was still part of him that wished they could go back to the way things had once been.
Rosalind: A Thanksgiving Day Bride (Brides of Noelle Book 8) Page 7
