Meadowlark

by Carolyn Lampman

  Though the grating of the key in the lock sounded unnaturally loud in Becky’s ears, the door swung open quietly on well-oiled hinges. She stepped through the opening and jumped as the door clunked shut behind her. The room was tiny, dark and stuffy. Garrick lay on the bunk with his arm thrown over his eyes.

  “Garrick?”

  “Go away, Becky.”

  “W-why?”

  “You have no reason to be here.”

  “I’m your wife.”

  “We both know that isn’t true.”

  Becky stiffened her spine. “I had a hard time getting in here, Garrick. I’m not leaving until we talk.”

  He sighed and sat up. “I don’t know what to say, Becky. Cameron’s dead and everyone says I killed him. Nothing I can do will bring him back for you.”

  Becky looked at him in surprise. “Cameron isn’t dead.”

  “Stolks said he was.”

  “And Angel said he’s over at her place, beat up but alive. Personally, I’d take Angel’s word before Constable Stolks’s. He’s a little too full of his own importance if you ask me.”

  “How badly beat up?”

  “I’m not really sure,” she hedged.

  For the first time he looked directly at her. “You haven’t seen him?

  “Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. It just seemed more important to come here first. Maybe because I can’t do anything to help him.”

  “You can’t help me either.”

  “Of course I can,” Becky said indignantly. “I’m going to help you get out of here.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “By proving you didn’t do it.”

  “You’re sure I didn’t?” Garrick stood up and walked to the door. “I wish I were.”

  Becky stared at him in shock. “What do you mean?”

  “To tell the truth, I was so drunk I don’t remember a thing after about ten o’clock.”

  “Drunk!” Becky looked at him as though he’d grown two heads. “Since when do you get so drunk you don’t remember anything?”

  “Last night was the first time.”

  “Why last night?”

  Garrick shrugged. “I felt like it.”

  “But surely you wouldn’t—”

  “Look, Becky, I don’t know if I did or not. Price isn’t exactly a weakling. There are very few men who could take him in a fight, let alone nearly kill him.”

  “But you could,” she whispered. Suddenly his arrest made more sense.

  “Ja, I could.” He stared out the window. “Maybe I did.”

  “Oh, Garrick, surely you’d have some bruises or—”

  “Damn it, Becky, if I were mad enough to kill him, do you honestly think I’d give him a chance to get a punch in?” He flung himself away from the window and paced across the small confines to the other side. “Why don’t you just go? I really don’t want you here.”

  Without a word, Becky turned and walked to the door and signaled Constable Stolks to let her out. She’d never heard Garrick use a swear word before, and he’d certainly never cursed at her, at least not in English.

  Garrick closed his eyes as the door shut behind Becky. He knew he’d hurt her deeply when he sent her away, but he didn’t want her to be part of the ugliness that was sure to come. It was going to be hard enough on her as it was. Especially when his past caught up with him, as it surely would before this was all over.

  For the hundredth time that morning, he searched his mind trying to remember what had happened. The last clear image was of Cameron Price going upstairs with Collette, his hands traveling all over the curvaceous brunette as they mounted the stairs.

  At that moment, Garrick had been so angry he might have killed Price if he’d had the chance. He’d definitely wanted to teach the other man a lesson about sleeping with one woman on the eve of asking another to marry him. Had he actually given in to his anger? It was certainly possible.

  At least Price was still alive. With any kind of luck, he’d stay that way. Garrick lay back down on his bunk. No matter whether Price lived or died, Garrick knew his own days were numbered. There was no doubt in his mind he was going to hang for murder.

  “How is he?” Becky whispered as she joined Angel in the tiny room where Cameron lay.

  “About as bad as a man can be this side of the cemetery. You see Swede?”

  “Yes, though it took some doing.” A suspicious little quaver entered her voice. “H-he sent me away.”

  “Don’t suppose he wants you hurt by any of this.”

  “It’s a little late for that.” Becky sat down with a sigh. “Sheriff Lucien told me I could have the job of cooking for Garrick and doing his laundry. Do you mind if I use your kitchen until I can go home again?”

  “You can use it even then. Mighty long way from your house to the jail. It’d be near impossible to pack food that far and keep it hot. What did Swede have to say for himself?”

  “He said he doesn’t remember.”

  “What?”

  “He was drunk. I...I think he’s convinced he did it.”

  “Good Lord!”

  “Oh, Angel, what if—”

  “Don’t even say it. There are too many possibilities to spend your time worrying about everything that could happen. There’s plenty of heartache in life without that.”

  Becky gave her a rueful smile. “You’re always so practical. Did you get any sleep with all the excitement?”

  “Not a whole lot.”

  “That’s what I thought. Why don’t you get some rest now? I can stay with Cameron.”

  “What about Alaina?”

  “She’s sucking her fingers.” Becky smiled down at the baby in her arms. “That usually means she’s about due for a nap.”

  “In that case, I’ll take her,” Angel said. “She can sleep on the bed next to me, and you won’t have to worry about her.”

  Becky gave her a doubtful look. “Are you sure? You’ll wake up when she does.”

  “That’s all right. I shouldn’t sleep more than an hour or two anyway. Besides, you’ll need time to cook Swede’s supper and get some rest yourself. Night is the time I’ll really need you here. Everyone else will be busy.”

  “All right,” Becky said dubiously as she handed Alaina to Angel, “but if you change your mind...”

  “Don’t worry, honey, you’ll be the first to know.”

  The steady rhythm of Cameron’s breathing was the only sound in the tiny room as Angel left. It was the first time Becky had ever been in one of the cribs, and she was uncomfortably aware of the opulent decadence around her. This is where the true business of the brothel went on. If not for Garrick’s timely intervention, she might well have worked in such a room herself.

  With a deep sigh, Becky turned her attention to Cameron. It pained her to look at him. Swollen almost beyond recognition, the once handsome face was a mass of cuts and bruises. He lay so still it was easy to believe he was near death. The thought frightened Becky clear down to her toes.

  Suddenly, she was confronted with the reality of her feelings for Cameron and was surprised to discover there was a part of her that still loved him. She hadn’t even realized it until faced with the possibility of his death. It was very different from the all-consuming passion she felt for Garrick but no less real. This man had given her a child; it was impossible for her to feel nothing for him.

  Life was so complicated. Not only was Cameron her first lover and Alaina’s father, he was the key to Garrick’s future as well. Only if he lived could Garrick be released, and if he died, Garrick might hang.

  Not for a moment did Becky believe Garrick was responsible for Cameron’s injuries. He had the devil’s own temper when he was mad, but he cooled off fast and was more likely to walk away in the middle of an argument than to actually throw punches. Whoever had attacked Cameron had waited until he left The Green Garter. Garrick would never be able to hold onto his anger that long, nor would
it be like him to ambush the man instead of confronting him face to face. Then there was the fact that he didn’t bear any marks to indicate he’d attacked Cameron. Even if Cameron didn’t fight back, Garrick’s hands would be bruised, wouldn’t they?

  Becky reached over and touched Cameron’s hand where it lay on the blanket. His knuckles were as unmarked as Garrick’s. Though he had obviously been beaten, he hadn’t been involved in a fistfight. If one eliminated Garrick as a suspect, it didn’t make sense. Who could have done this to Cameron? An important piece of the puzzle was missing, and there was little chance the constable would look for it.

  By the time Angel returned two hours later, Becky had decided it was up to her to ferret out the truth. Whoever had hurt Cameron should be brought to justice. And it was Garrick’s only chance.

  Her first thought was to simply find out when the two men had left The Green Garter. It proved to be more difficult than she anticipated. Angel hadn’t paid any attention; nor, it seemed, had anyone else. Sam was the only one who had seen them both leave, and he wasn’t sure about the time.

  “Miss Angel don’t allow clocks in the casino,” he said as he pondered the question, “but I reckon Swede left long about midnight.”

  “What about Cameron Price?”

  “Seems to me it was a while later, but I ain’t real certain when.”

  “A short time or a long time after Swede?”

  He rubbed his chin reflectively. “Seems like it was pretty soon, but I couldn’t tell you for sure.”

  Becky bit her lip in frustration. Sam’s testimony was more likely to implicate Garrick than exonerate him. “Who found Cameron?”

  “I did, right after we closed down about dawn. Dang near tripped over him on my way to the outhouse.”

  “Could you tell me where?”

  “Can’t miss it. Right out back by the path.”

  There was little hope of discovering anything the sheriff had missed, but Becky was determined to examine every possibility. She had no trouble finding the place from Sam’s description. Footprints in the dust and broken weeds indicated a scuffle had indeed taken place there. Unfortunately, it was impossible to tell anything else.

  Hoping to find a clear footprint, Becky skirted the edge of the trampled area. Both Garrick and Cameron had large feet. An average size boot print could help prove Garrick wasn’t the attacker. Her search proved fruitless. All the prints were blurred beyond recognition.

  She was about to give up in defeat when a flash of color caught her eye next to the path. Some sort of brooch lay there, partially hidden in the grass. With a surge of hope, Becky bent to pick up the unexpected clue. She stared at the pin in surprise.

  It was a bronze star suspended from the talons of an eagle. An engraving depicted a woman with a shield driving her enemy before her. Though Becky had never seen anything quite like it, she was pretty sure the red, white, and blue ribbon attached to the pin at the top meant it was a military medal of some sort. Cameron had been attacked by a soldier? It didn’t make any sense, but then none of it did. At least she knew where to start looking: Fort Stambaugh.

  Chapter 31

  “Good evening, Constable Stolks,” Becky said pleasantly as she set the basket on his desk. “I hope you like venison stew.”

  “What?” He looked at the basket, then up at her face in surprise.

  “Venison stew, do you like it?”

  “I...well, yes, but—”

  “Good.” Becky smiled as she handed him a folded napkin from the basket. “I never thought to ask this morning.”

  His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What are you trying to pull?”

  She paused in the process of setting a plate and silverware in front of him. “Didn’t Sheriff Lucien tell you he hired me to cook and do laundry for my husband?”

  “Yeah, he told me, but he never said nothin’ about this.”

  “Oh, dear. I thought he meant…oh, well never mind.” She started to put the plate back in the basket.

  “Hold on now. What exactly did you think you were supposed to do?”

  “Cook three meals a day for everyone here, but I guess he meant only the prisoners. I feel so foolish—”

  “No need for that,” he said gruffly. “Don’t reckon there’s any harm done after all.”

  Becky hesitated. “Would you like some stew then? I made plenty, and it’ll just go to waste otherwise.”

  “If you’re sure there’s too much for Swede. I can’t abide throwin’ good food away.”

  “I can’t either, and I always seem to make too much,” Becky said with a smile as she lifted the lid off the pot of stew. “I’m so glad you—Oh, dear.” She paused with a ladle full of stew in mid-air, the tantalizing smell wafting toward him enticingly. “I just happened to think, what about your own supper?”

  “I don’t reckon I’ll make it back to my boarding house in time for supper anyway.”

  “Do you mean to tell me when you have a prisoner you don’t have time to eat?”

  “Usually the sheriff comes by to spell me, but he’s out of town tonight. “

  “Of all the inconsiderate—I’m certainly glad I brought enough for both of you,” Becky said indignantly. “You can just plan on eating here as long as I’m doing the cooking.”

  Abner Stolks gave her a dubious look as he watched her fill his plate. “Somehow, I find this all pretty hard to believe, Mrs. Swenson.”

  “Good heaven’s, why?” Inwardly Becky winced. It was obvious she’d gone too far.

  “Ain’t no reason for you to be so nice to me, is there?”

  “My reasons are purely selfish,” Becky assured him. “A hungry man is more likely to be grouchy than a well-fed one. In spite of what you’ve heard, I care about my husband and would much rather have his jailer in a good mood.”

  “Or you could be plannin’ on breakin’ him out somehow.”

  “Are you afraid I poisoned your food?” Becky asked incredulously.

  “It occurred to me.”

  Their gazes locked for several moments, hers plainly astonished, his suspicious. “I see your point,” Becky said at last. “I guess I’d be leery in your position too.” She picked up a spoon and ate a mouthful of stew from his plate and another from the pot on the table. Then she broke open a biscuit, added butter, a rare commodity in the mining town, and ate that as well. “But, as you can see, it’s perfectly safe. From now on, you can dish it up, and I’ll taste everything before either of you eat it.”

  Stolks watched her closely as she polished off the biscuit and wiped her hands on the napkin.

  “I’ll leave now and come back in about an hour to pick up the dishes,” she said, dropping the napkin on the desk.

  He didn’t say a word as she walked across the room and out the door. Becky breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind her. Heavens, but the man was suspicious. Mindful of Joe Lucien’s advice, she’d purposely set out to win Abner Stolk’s confidence. The task wasn’t going to be easy.

  If she had planned anything truly deceitful, she’d have been caught red-handed. Of course, even if there were a way to get Garrick out of jail, he’d probably refuse to go with her. One hand in her pocket, Becky fingered the medal she’d found that morning. It was still her best chance of helping Garrick. As soon as Sheriff Lucien returned, she’d take it to him. Though he didn’t necessarily believe Garrick was innocent, he’d want to check it out. Right now, she had other things to worry about.

  If Garrick’s business was going to survive, she needed to locate a smith to run it while he was in jail. It turned out to be the simplest of her tasks. John Gibbons, the man who had taken over when Garrick went with Ox, was happy to oblige. Becky’s other duties were not so easily accomplished. Cooking for Garrick, nursing Cameron, and taking care of Alaina were all nearly full-time jobs, and she began to show the strain almost immediately.

  Angel helped as much as she could, but with her business to run, she had little spare time. Collette turned out to be
an unexpected ally, though it certainly wasn’t out of love for Becky. The beautiful brunette was of no use when it came to the heavy work like changing the bedding or forcing beef broth down the patient’s throat, but she was willing to sit with Cameron during the day.

  Becky was so grateful for the respite that she didn’t even mind the hate-filled looks she got from Collette every time they met. It didn’t matter that the other woman was jealous and spiteful. Becky appreciated her help.

  For the time it took to deliver Garrick’s meals, Becky left Alaina with Angel when possible. Though Abner Stolks still didn’t allow her inside Garrick’s cell, by the second day he’d thawed enough to let her stay in the outer room of the cell block until the meal was over. Unfortunately, in the meantime, Becky didn’t see Sheriff Lucien to give him the medal she’d found.

  It wasn’t until the third night of Garrick’s imprisonment that she was able to talk to the sheriff, and then only because he sought her out at The Green Garter while she sat by Cameron’s bedside.

  “Sheriff Lucien’s here to see you,” Angel said, showing him into the tiny room. “It’ll be a bit crowded with Alaina’s bed and all, but at least you’ll be private.”

  “Thank you, Miss Angel,” he said with a smile. “Hello, Mrs. Swenson.”

  Becky was surprised to see him. “Sheriff.”

  “Sorry to bother you,” he said, trying not to stare at the garish gold and crimson wallpaper, “but I need some information.”

  “Actually, I’ve been wanting to talk to you too.”

  “You have?”

  Becky reached into her pocket. “I found this in the weeds next to where Cameron was hurt. It must have been dropped by the attacker.”

  Sheriff Lucien took the medal from her hand and studied it carefully. “It looks like some kind of military decoration.”

  “That’s what I thought too. They’d know who’d have something like that at Fort Stambaugh, wouldn’t they?”

  “It’s a possibility worth checking into, anyway. I’ll ride over tomorrow and see what I can find out. The army has been mighty interested in this case even though it’s a purely civil matter.” The sheriff looked at Cameron. “How is he?”