No Way Up

by Mary Connealy

  “Forgotten what?” Justin accepted the coffee Cole handed him.

  Sadie finished with her doctoring and turned to get coffee. She brought Heath a cup and one for herself, then sat beside him on the sofa.

  “I am going against your parents’ wishes when I show you this. But they are not here and I believe they would show it to you if they could.” Her hand slid slowly into the pocket of her apron. She produced a piece of folded paper, yellow with age, bent and cracked at the edges, smeared with some kind of brownish stain.

  Cole went to her.

  She gave the paper to him. “I feel as if I am letting danger loose on you children.”

  “We’re not children anymore.” Cole rested a hand on her shoulder. “Whatever it is, Rosita, we’re grown up enough to face it. Besides, our not knowing might only put us in deeper peril.”

  Nodding, Rosita said, “I will stay while you talk of this. You will have questions.” She got coffee for herself and arranged the pot in the fireplace.

  Cole unfolded the paper. Heath felt an urge to stop him. Shield all of them from what it contained, though he knew that was foolish. Cole and Justin were both tough men—they’d handle whatever came. But Rosita’s dread at showing them this paper was hard to overlook.

  Cole read it and began shaking his head as if in disbelief. Finally he looked up. “Where did you get this?”

  Not a patient man even on his best day, Justin surged to his feet and went to Cole. He took the paper and read aloud, “‘This is a warning. Clear out of this land you stole from Mexico.’” With narrowed eyes, he said, “This is the same note we found at the top of the canyon pass. But this is old.”

  “When I read the new note,” Rosita said, “I had to show you the old one.”

  “I do remember this,” Cole said. “I was four years old, and it was stuffed in Grandfather Frank’s shirt pocket. Left there by the man who shot him.”

  “What?” Sadie jumped up and went to look at the note. Heath didn’t bother. He figured they could all read well enough to get it right.

  “So whoever set off that avalanche on Chance also shot your grandfather?” Heath asked.

  “But that happened thirty years ago,” Cole said, staring at the note as though doing so would squeeze more words into view, maybe a signature. “Whoever killed him had to be an adult. He’d be getting on in years, and it’s a long time to wait to strike again.”

  “Maybe whoever wrote this knew about the other note.” Justin took it from Cole as if he had to hang on to this bit of evidence. “And since it appears to be a mighty big secret, does that mean he was here back then?”

  “He was either here or he knew the man who killed Grandfather and was his confederate.” Sadie returned to her chair, every move graceful and feminine, even when she was clearly upset. “Not much chance a killer would shoot someone as rich and powerful as Grandfather Frank and boast of it—not if he wanted to stay a free man for long. But he might confide in a person or two, enough for the wording of the note to get passed along.”

  “The land belongs to Mexico?” Cole sat behind his pa’s desk as if it were his rightful place. “What in the dickens can he mean by that?”

  “Does the land belong to Mexico?” Heath shifted around to try to get comfortable, glad they were thinking about something besides the scratch on his arm.

  “No. This land is part of the Treaty of Hidalgo. The boundaries are clear. It was signed away by Mexico over thirty years ago.” Cole leaned forward and planted his elbows on the desk.

  “I wasn’t asking if you were sure of your boundaries. What I’m wondering is if it’s possible someone doesn’t see it that way?”

  “It’s very possible,” Rosita declared into the middle of the tense conversation. “I know many people here who have always resented the boundary lines cutting them off from what they see as their true country.”

  “And I know people outside of the state,” Cole said, “who are leery of allowing a state into the union that is so heavily populated with Mexicans and Indians. They think we are too foreign to fit in the United States.”

  “The combination keeps us a territory,” Justin went on, “long after other states are welcomed in. New Mexico Territory applied for statehood in 1850 right after the treaty that came out of the Mexican-American War. It’s been over thirty years and we’re still waiting.”

  “Some folks may think that gives them a chance to win this whole area back for Mexico.”

  “I can maybe see someone mad enough back then to shoot your grandfather over this, but why now? If someone was killing mad, why wait thirty years to strike again?”

  “Pa,” Cole said quietly. “Grandfather was right to force Pa to marry Ma. Pa was a rich man in his own right with powerful friends back east. Killing him wouldn’t do anyone any good because he had all his affairs in order and he was a strong enough man to hold the land. Grandfather was too, but he wasn’t aware of the danger. Pa was always ready.”

  Heath didn’t think that was enough of an explanation. “When did you find gold?”

  Silence settled over the room for a moment.

  “It was found in 1866.” Justin looked grim. “Right after the war. The rush came about a year later in ’67.”

  “How’d it take a year for the rush to start? Why not right away?”

  “Two soldiers found it, but they were in the Army and couldn’t stake a claim at the time because they were called away. They came back as soon as they could and got here to find the mountain covered with miners.” Justin crossed his arms and paced faster, his eyes unfocused as if he were looking into the past. “Many of them staked claims on our land. Instead of driving them off, Pa managed the claims by taking a cut. Besides that, he ran a mine of his own. He ran it all really well, and when Cole got back he ran it even better.”

  Justin lifted his coffee cup in a salute to Cole, who smiled. “You’re doing a fine job with the ranch too, Justin. Not sure why every once in a while I get the urge to start beating on you.”

  “I think I drove you crazy when I was a youngster, starting fights you couldn’t finish because you were bigger. And now, thanks to that, you’re a lunatic. Sorry about that.”

  Heath had been watching these two scrap since he’d gotten here. But the word amongst the cowhands was that they’d tear into each other, but turn and fight together against anyone who threatened them or anyone in their family.

  “The gold rush was a long time after your grandfather died.”

  The time to think made Heath add, “And starting a rockslide is a whole different way to kill than shooting a man. The man who attacked your pa didn’t mean to pass it off as an accident because he left the note. But he didn’t lead us up there, which makes me think he wouldn’t have minded if we never found out. This assault on your pa was a sneak attack. It sounds like whoever killed your grandfather looked him in the eye.”

  “Whoever hurt Pa wasn’t acting alone.” Cole sank into a chair, looking through everyone and everything, trying to figure it out.

  “And you’ve known all this time,” Heath said to Rosita, “that Chastain’s death had something to do with Mexico?”

  “At first, all we thought about was grief and Veronica’s sadness and the new marriage. Mr. Chastain had seen his killer, but his thoughts were for his daughter and how to save the ranch for her. He spent his last hours making sure Veronica was safely married to Chance. And he refused to tell who had shot him and asked us to let it go. He said if he told who it was, that would put everyone in danger. But my papa, Sarge, the ranch foreman and a good friend of Mr. Chastain, was too furious. Especially when a young cowhand named Ramone went missing right after the murder. To Papa it was as good as a confession. He started hunting the man. It soon came to light that Ramone was the illegitimate son of Don Bautista de Val, Frank’s partner in the land grant.”

  Heath nodded. “John talked about the land grant the night Chance was hurt.”

  “We figured the motive for Grandfather Fra
nk’s murder was a jealous young man,” Cole said, “abandoned by his father and left to work as a cowhand on a ranch he figured oughta be his. He was sweet on Ma, or he acted like he was sweet on her to gain possession of the land through marriage.”

  Heath said quietly, “Maybe he thought his pa would come back if he regained the land. Could the return of his father somehow explain the note saying he’d get the land back for Mexico? Maybe when his attack failed, he lost more than a woman and a fortune. Maybe he lost his hope of getting his father back.”

  Heath had plotted many a wild scheme to get his own father to stay home and be a better family man. None of them had included shooting anybody, however.

  “We’re wasting a lot of time on guesses.” Sadie rose and got the coffeepot and poured everyone another cup. As she filled Rosita’s cup, she asked, “Why didn’t our parents tell us about the note?”

  “Mr. Chastain died asking us not to pursue his killer.”

  “John told me Ramone was there when Grandfather was killed.” Justin thanked Sadie, took the pot, and returned it to the fireplace. “They tracked him to the spot of the murder.”

  Rosita took a thoughtful sip of coffee. “I have always wondered if rather than kill Mr. Chastain, Ramone instead witnessed his murder. That might have sent him running.”

  “I also heard there was trouble with the governor, or at least with some of his men.” Cole drummed his fingers on the desktop. “I heard Ma and Pa talking. Money passed from Grandfather to Santa Fe, we’d be left alone for a time, and then there’d be trouble and Grandfather would pay again. That ended when Pa took over, and it all seemed settled that an American citizen could retain possession of the grant.”

  “All that was before there was gold. When that was discovered, this ranch went from a prosperous holding to one of the richest tracts of land in the West.” Heath was a man of action, and all this talking was wearing thin. But it was hard to get to work when he had a bullet wound on his arm.

  A loud knock at the back door sent Justin out of the room. He returned soon with the doctor in tow.

  “We haven’t settled much,” Cole said with a sour expression.

  “Nope,” Justin said as he led the doctor in. “But at least now we know there is something to settle.”

  “And we know to be a lot more careful,” Sadie added, looking at Heath’s wounded arm. Her sweet concern made him feel like he could flap his arms and fly up to the top of that mesa.

  “And now we know there’s an easier way to the mesa top. Whoever was shooting had a fast way down.” Heath braced himself for more poking and prodding from the doctor. “And I aim to find it.”

  17

  Sadie emerged from church one pace ahead of Cole and Justin. She paused to shake Parson Gregory’s hand. “I enjoyed the service.”

  The kindly man who helped so often with the orphanage took her hand in both of his. “We miss you in town, Sadie. I’m praying for your father and all of you.”

  “Thank you. We welcome your prayers, Parson.”

  Sadie felt herself gently but firmly propelled forward. She glanced back to see Justin giving the parson a sincere but brief handshake, with Cole behaving the same. Then Justin caught her arm and pulled her away from the front steps of the church.

  “I’m going to talk to the sheriff.” Justin saw the town’s only lawman across the churchyard. “It’s gonna be quick, though. We need to get home and make some plans. Don’t wander off.”

  “But I want to—”

  Cole cut Sadie off. “Willa told me there’s a letter from Ma at the general store. She said she and Ed would open up so I could get it. Then I need to go to my house and pack crates with paper work I need to run the mines.”

  “That’s fine. That gives me time to—”

  “Get the letter, but we don’t have time for you to pack crates.” Justin pulled on black leather gloves with a hard tug. “We need to get going.”

  “While you’re both busy, I can—”

  Heath walked over, already talking, looking as healthy and strong as a man could look after being recently shot. “The blacksmith has my spikes done. I can get to the top of that mesa now. I’m going to the livery with him. Don’t head home until I get back. You need riders along in case anyone starts shooting.”

  “Surely I can take a minute to—” Sadie began.

  All three men headed in different directions. They left her standing there, as if she were a well-trained dog who’d stay put until they whistled for her. Men could be a pain in the neck.

  Since they didn’t actually have her on a leash, something Sadie could only imagine was coming, she went to the orphanage. The men were bright. They could find her when they were ready to head home.

  She left the church in a hurry, hoping to get more time to meet Sister Margaret’s niece. All the orphans still played in the churchyard, with the faithful teachers Sister Louisa and Miss Maria watching over them. The orphanage had its own Catholic services. A traveling priest came through occasionally, but mostly it was a quiet prayer time with Sister Margaret leading. Sadie had to admit she was eager to meet the mysterious Angelique.

  Sadie reached the old adobe building quickly, as Skull Gulch wasn’t a big town. She swung open the front door. “Hello? Sister Margaret?”

  “Come on back to my quarters, Sadie,” Sister Margaret called. Sadie moved to the back of the building. The older lady didn’t feel she needed to stop what she was doing and get the door, which made Sadie feel very much at home.

  Sadie entered Sister Margaret’s rooms and stopped. Shocked.

  A painfully thin young woman sat up, with pillows propped behind her back, on Sister Margaret’s narrow bed. Sadie glanced at a pallet made up on the floor. It could only mean Sister Margaret had been sleeping there. A twinge of dismay swept through Sadie. She worked hard to lift the burden from all the teachers, and here was Angelique adding more work and Sadie was not here to help.

  Angelique looked so frail, Sadie suspected that rather than have nowhere else to sleep, Sister Margaret had chosen the hard floor so she could be near enough to care for the poor, fragile woman.

  “Sadie, allow me to introduce my niece Angelique.” Sister Margaret made a courtly gesture with one gnarled hand.

  “Aunt Margaret, please call me Angie. And Sadie, I’d appreciate it if you would, too.”

  Sister Margaret’s hands came together, almost as if in prayer. “But you said you despised that nickname. You were quite adamant I never call you that again.”

  “I know, but I was being unpleasant to everyone back then. You most of all, and I regret my unkindness terribly. I miss being called Angie.” From Angie’s resigned tone, Sadie wondered how many times she’d asked this of Sister Margaret.

  Sister Margaret didn’t respond. Instead she had a nervous expression on her face. Maybe it was just worry for Angie, but it seemed like more than that. Like she was afraid to say the wrong thing, and somehow her saying the name Angie would be the wrong thing.

  Well, Sadie wasn’t much worried about trampling on some delicate feelings she could only imagine. “Hello, Angie, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Sadie Boden. I was teaching here but had to quit. I really left your aunt and the other teachers short-staffed. I’m so grateful you were able to come and help out.” Sadie set her reticule and Bible aside and came closer to the bed. “I heard you had a hard trip out here.”

  “Very hard. But Aunt Margaret is taking such good care of me.” Angie managed a weak smile. Dark circles under her eyes looked like exhaustion rather than ill health. “I hope to be out of this bed today and start doing my share of the work.”

  “Nonsense. Not today, and not any day soon.” Sister Margaret walked over to the stove. “You’re going to rest and eat good food and regain your strength before you start working.”

  “But Aunt Margaret, I came out to help. I—”

  “Hush now, my sweet girl.” Sister Margaret dipped a ladle in a pot of soup that filled the air with the scent of w
arm vegetables and beef. “Mel said she’d keep right on working until you’re ready.”

  She spoke in her usual gruff-but-kind way—but there was more to it. Sadie could tell Sister Margaret genuinely loved her niece. Margaret filled the bowl and brought it to Angie.

  “Prove to me you can sit up and eat a good meal.” With a rather loud thud, Sister Margaret set the bowl on a table beside her niece. “That will go a long way toward convincing me you’re ready to get to work.”

  Sadie suppressed a smile. Sister Margaret was using the same voice she used on uncooperative second graders. Underneath the sternness there was affection gleaming in Sister Margaret’s eyes, but also worry. It seemed clear that there was some kind of trouble between the two women. Sadie wished she had time to find out what it was, yet she had to head for home and help solve a mystery. If she didn’t go soon, Justin and Cole would be here to drag her off.

  “It’s nice to meet you. Your aunt Margaret has talked of you many times. She was so glad to have the opportunity to send for you.”

  Angie nodded but didn’t speak. Something flashed in her eyes. Sadie was certain she saw fear. Then, as if Angie knew her expression gave too much away, she turned to her soup, acting as though it held the mystery of life.

  Sadie went on, “I miss helping, but I’ve moved home to my father’s ranch for the time being. Mel is an old friend who’s filling in.”

  “She’s been a wonderful helper,” Sister Margaret said, “but she seems befuddled by the students. She begs the children to behave, and when that fails, as it always does, she snaps out orders. And that just riles them up. I heard her threatening to lasso and hog-tie one of the more unruly little boys the other day.”

  “So Mel’s not a natural teacher, then?” Sadie pressed her fingertips against her lips to keep from laughing.

  There was a spark of exasperated amusement in Sister Margaret’s face. “Let’s just say that Mel is eager to get back to herding something she can understand, like longhorns.”

  Though it was left unspoken, Sadie heard loud and clear that Sister Margaret was not one bit upset to see Mel head for the range.