by Merry Farmer
“They all seem so willing to lend their help,” Libby had reported, shaking her head as if good, old-fashioned neighborliness was a mystery to her.
Mason chewed over that thought now as he herded a half dozen cows into a smaller paddock for inspection. He was willing to admit he didn’t understand the way a woman’s mind worked, but surely a confrontation with the man who had hurt her would warrant more conversation than normal, everyday socializing with other women.
Or maybe Libby had been without female company for so long that the support of other women was big news. Either way, it didn’t change the fact that Hector was still wandering free around Haskell.
“I doubt that frown is for the heifers.”
Mason glanced up to find Theophilus Gunn striding toward him. A wagon with The Cattleman Hotel’s logo painted on the side was parked closer to the barn. Gunn wore sturdy boots under his uniform trousers. He managed to look at home in the rugged surroundings of the ranch while also being ready to serve tea to the queen.
“These are the cows I’ve picked out for the hotel pantry,” Mason answered. He’d been expecting Gunn, in spite of the fact that the man managed to sneak up on him.
Gunn walked the rest of the way to the paddock and studied the cows with an assessing look for a moment. “I’m only pretending I know what I’m looking at,” he confessed with a straight face and a twinkle in his eye. “If you say they’ll provide quality dining for the hotel’s guests, then I’ll believe you.”
Mason slipped into a grin. “They will, sir. Your reputation will remain intact.”
Gunn clasped his hands behind his back and looked long and hard at Mason. “You weren’t trying to slaughter them with a look just now, were you?”
Mason’s grin faltered. “No.” He said nothing more. Gunn could see right through anyone anyway.
To prove that, Gunn hummed and said, “If not the livestock, then who were you hoping to slay?”
Mason let out a breath and finished latching the paddock gate. “I’m pretty sure you already know the answer to that question, Mr. Gunn.”
Gunn nodded with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I ran into your wife at the hotel yesterday. Well, she ran into me. Quite literally.”
Mason’s heart rate kicked up. He crossed his arms. “Oh?”
“She seemed distraught, even though she insisted she was fine.” The man’s expression said he didn’t believe that any more than Mason did. “Because she ran out of a side hall leading to the lobby, once she’d gone, I went to investigate.”
“What did you find?” Mason crossed his arms.
“One of the hotel’s guests, a Mr. Hector Sterling, was wandering in the hallway. He said he was looking for a washroom, but when I pointed out which door it was, he thanked me and walked off.”
Mason rubbed his face in an attempt to keep his jaw from locking up. Too many pieces that he didn’t like were falling into place. If Libby was distraught when she ran into Gunn after encountering Hector, then Mason’s worst fears were confirmed. He was still after her. And Mason was idling his time on the ranch instead of helping his wife.
“If I might make a suggestion,” Gunn interrupted the train of Mason’s thought.
“Please do.”
Gunn took in a breath. “You might be wise to find a way to convince Mr. Sterling to leave town.”
Mason laughed. He couldn’t help it. “I’m way ahead of you, Gunn.” He stepped forward and clapped a hand on Gunn’s shoulder. “I already talked to Trey about how far I can go before getting myself arrested. And Bonnie’s as eager to get rid of the scoundrel as I am.”
“You can add my name to that list as well,” Gunn drawled. He crossed his arms and raised one hand to tap his lips. “So you need to know how far you can go to persuade Mr. Sterling to leave town without breaking the law?”
Mason sighed. “It’s a little more complicated than that.” He narrowed his eyes, assessing just how much he trusted Theophilus Gunn.
The answer was, completely.
“Hector Sterling committed a crime against Libby,” Mason confided in a low voice. “The result of which is the baby Libby is carrying.”
Gunn gasped, face growing red with anger. “Then I most certainly want him out of my hotel.”
“You and me both. Trey thinks if we could get him to confess to what he did where witnesses can hear him, we’ll be able to make a case against him in a court of law.”
“A confession?” Gunn’s expression lit with thought.
“Exactly.” Mason shifted his weight, the hair on the back of his neck standing up for a good reason for a change. “You got an idea?”
Gunn tapped his lips faster. “I might.” He dropped his arms and focused on Mason. “You need Hector Sterling to confess to a heinous crime, and you need him to make the confession to a reputable person whose testimony in court will not be questioned.”
“Yes.” Mason nodded.
“And you need to create a situation where a confession of that nature would be natural and believable.”
“You got an idea?”
Gunn paused before saying, “Bring him to me.”
Nothing at all about Theophilus Gunn would suggest that the man had a malicious bone in his body, but those four, simple words left Mason quaking in his boots. Lord help the man who ever crossed swords with Gunn.
“How? When?” Mason’s blood pumped faster.
“I assume you want to take care of this as quickly as possible.”
“Yes, sir, I do. I’m sure Libby does too.”
Gunn nodded. “I’ll be in my office this afternoon. It’s discreet, but central to town. Mr. Sterling is already staying at the hotel, all you need to do is to discover a way to bring him to my door.”
“I’m sure I can manage it.”
“I should also mention that my office has certain…useful features that would allow a few other witnesses to be on hand to hear the confession.” Gunn smiled that innocent, deadly smile of his.
Mason chuckled and thumped Gunn on the arm. “Whoever thought Haskell had such a dangerous and cunning man in their midst.”
Gunn’s only response was to raise one eyebrow.
Mason could hardly keep his thoughts together as he walked Gunn through the rest of the business that had brought him to Paradise Ranch. Once he turned Gunn over to Franklin to negotiate prices and delivery of beef for the hotel, Mason hurried off to find Luke to ask for the afternoon off.
“You want the afternoon off to help get rid of the villain who’s after my sister?” Luke asked with a wicked grin. “Heck, Mason, you can have the whole day off and the next three days if you need them. Just make sure my sister is safe.”
It was all the endorsement Mason needed. He dropped everything he was doing, saddled up one of the ranch’s horses, and set off for town at a gallop.
His first order of business once he made it into town was to figure out where Hector was.
“You could start at the hotel,” Travis advised him as he took the reins of the ranch horse from Mason at the livery. “It’s where he’s staying, after all.”
“I’ll check.” Mason nodded. “Something tells me he’s probably out and about, though. He seems to think he’ll get a job as Rex Bonneville’s foreman.”
Travis frowned. “If he’s out at Bonneville’s, it’ll be harder to bring him in.”
“Then let’s hope he’s not there. Bonnie says she was going to have a word with Rex about not hiring him.”
Travis snorted. “Bonnie Horner has more gumption than any man in this town the way she handles Rex.”
“I’ve noticed,” Mason drawled. He gave the ranch horse a final pat before turning to head out into the street.
“You’ll let me know if you need help?” Travis called after him.
For a flash, all Libby’s talk of the women who had come to her rescue the day before came to him. Maybe it was reassuring to have allies after all. “I will,” Mason called back to his brother.
<
br /> He shoved his hands in his pockets and hunkered into his coat to fight off the chill. Christmas was in less than five weeks. Thanksgiving was right around the corner. He hadn’t given so much as a thought to either of them. There was no point in celebrating until Libby was out of all danger.
The wind that hit him as he turned to walk up Main Street threatened to freeze his face, but it also clicked a few more ideas into place in his head. If Hector wasn’t out at Bonneville’s ranch, if he’d stayed in town, he would seek shelter someplace warm and cozy. That left only a few options—the hotel, Bonnie’s, or the saloon. Since he was on the same side of the street as Bonnie’s, he checked there first.
The front part of Bonnie’s place was every bit as cozy as a man would want on a nippy day. The girls had organized some sort of card game in the front parlor. Two out-of-towners laughed as they played, flirting with the girls. Neither were Hector.
“I know you’re not here for business,” Bonnie said, coming through a door that led to the back of her house.
Mason’s answering smile was all he needed to give for the woman to understand his mission, but he asked, “Is Hector here by any chance?” anyhow.
“Nope.” Bonnie leaned against the stair railing with a proud grin. “The girls are all on notice to refuse him if he does walk through those doors.”
“Good girls.”
“He hasn’t tried yet, though,” Bonnie went on. “As far as I’ve been told, he’s been spending all his time playing cards over at the saloon.”
The thrill of the hunt rose up in Mason. “That’s just what I need to hear.”
He turned to go, but Bonnie stopped him with, “What’s the plan?”
Mason paused, then turned back to her. “Do you really want to help?”
“Of course I do,” Bonnie laughed. She walked a few steps closer to Mason. “That wife of yours is the sweetest, hurtingest woman I’ve met in a long time. She deserves an army beside her, fighting the battles she’s had to fight.”
A few more things made sense to Mason. “She spoke very highly of you yesterday.”
“Well, I’m speaking very highly of her today. And if you’re headed to the saloon to give that man what he deserves, I’m sending reinforcements. Pearl!”
She hollered the name over her shoulder. A few seconds later, bright, bubbly Pearl Pettigrew bounced down the stairs. She had a way of bouncing—especially up top—that had Mason turning away. He was married now, after all.
“Yes’m?” Pearl asked as she reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Pearl, grab your shawl.” Bonnie grinned and shook her head at Mason’s reaction to the girl. “You’re going with Mason to The Silver Dollar.”
“I am?” Pearl blinked. “I thought he was happily married now.”
“You’re going to keep an eye on Hector Sterling.”
Pearl’s girlish innocence hardened to almost Amazonian resolve. “I see. Give me one second.”
As Mason waited for Pearl to fetch her shawl, it dawned on him that his efforts to bring Hector to justice were quickly becoming a whole-town cause. First Trey and Bonnie, then Gunn, now Pearl. Who else would end up joining them before all was said and done?
The answer came as he and Pearl stepped out into the frigid afternoon and started across the street to the saloon.
“Morning, Mason,” Solomon Templesmith greeted him as he too crossed toward the saloon. “Pearl.”
“Hello, Mr. Templesmith.” Pearl batted her eyes at the handsome, black banker.
“Heading for a drink to take the chill off?” Solomon asked Mason.
“Not quite.”
“Oh?”
There wasn’t time to explain more before Mason, Pearl, and Solomon stepped through The Silver Dollar Saloon’s heavy, winter door and into the warmth. The saloon wasn’t that crowded, considering it was only early afternoon. Bonnie’s girl, Rosa, sat at the bar, listening to the saloon’s manager, Sam Standish, tell some kind of tale. Another table was occupied by several of Bonneville’s ranch hands, who must have had the day off. A third table hosted a combination of Haskell men and out-of-towners playing poker. Hector played with them.
A predatory grin crossed Mason’s face. Now all he had to do was figure out how to get Hector out of the saloon and over to Gunn’s office.
“Why yes, I’d love for you to treat me to a pick-me-up, Mr. Templesmith.” Pearl grabbed hold of Solomon’s arm and steered him toward the bar.
“Actually, I’m only here to discuss finances with Sam,” Solomon said as the two of them veered off toward the bar.
Mason frowned at Pearl’s defection, but his confusion only lasted a moment. Pearl tugged Solomon’s arm until he bent enough for her to whisper in his ear. By the time they made it to the bar and took seats on barstools next to Rosa, Solomon’s expression had hardened to alert. He nodded to Mason, then subtly glanced to the table where Hector played poker. Looked like Mason had another soldier in his army, and a valuable one too, if what Gunn said about needing respectable witnesses for any court case was right. As one of the richest business owners in town, Solomon Templesmith fit the bill.
Mason thrust a hand into his pocket to see how much money he’d brought with him. It wasn’t much, but he didn’t need more than a few dollars to do what he needed to do.
“Gentlemen, do you have room for one more?” he asked as he approached the poker game.
Hector glanced up at him and scowled. “The game is already in progress.”
“There’s always room for one more, if you’ve got money,” one of the other men said. He scooted to the side, then leaned back and reached for an empty chair from the table beside them. “Sit.”
With a victorious grin for Hector, Mason planted himself in the chair and pulled it up to the table. Hector’s color had gone splotchy, but he’d schooled his features to neutrality.
“Let’s finish this hand before dealing anyone else in,” he said.
Mason took out his money and placed it on the table as the men finished the round. Across the table from him, Hector had amassed a tidy pile of coins and bills, but he hadn’t run away with the game yet. As play continued, Mason figured each of the four other men sitting at the table were equally matched. The stakes didn’t seem to be high. It was the kind of game men played on a brisk afternoon to pass the time and stay warm.
“It’s straight-up five card stud,” the dealer—a grizzled older man who was missing one front tooth explained as he dealt Mason into the next hand. “Nothing fancy, nothing wild.”
Mason anted up, received his cards, and gave them a passing glance. Now that he was sitting there at the table with Hector mere feet away from him, he wasn’t sure how to proceed. He wasn’t great at cards to begin with, but concentrating on playing the odds and making a good hand while mulling over how to get a criminal to confess to his crimes wasn’t the easiest thing he’d done all day.
As he chose three cards from his hand to lay on the table and received three more from the dealer, he dove in to his real mission. “I’m surprised you’re still in town, Hector.”
Hector sniffed a laugh. “I’m surprised you’re crowing so much after marrying the woman carrying my child.”
The other three men at the table stiffened, sending anxious looks between the two of them. Mason gritted his teeth. He should have figured Hector would come out swinging and that he didn’t care who heard his accusations against Libby. All he had to do was get the man over to Gunn’s office so Gunn could work his magic.
“I don’t suppose even Rex Bonneville is cold enough to hire a rapist as foreman of his ranch,” Mason said casually as he sorted his cards.
Hector snorted. “Libby was as willing as any—what did that Bonneville tart call her? Wicked enchantress. If you’d been there to see the way naughty Libby cooed and wriggled, you’d know.”
“I’m out,” one of the other players said. He thumped his cards down so fast that two dropped to the floor—two kings—and grabbed his coat off t
he back of the chair before fleeing.
The dealer cleared his throat, keeping his eyes down.
The other man put his cards down and reached under the table for what Mason figured was some sort of concealed weapon. “I fold.”
Mason did his best to remain calm. He could not cross the line. He couldn’t get himself arrested. Even if he wanted to throw over the table and break every bone in Hector’s body right then.
“That’s not the way Libby tells it,” he went on.
“She’s a liar. She promised to marry me, and here she is, married to you, my baby inside her.” Hector didn’t bother to look at Mason as he hurled his accusation. He picked up some of his coins and tossed them in the pot. “Two dollars.”
The dealer sent an anxious glance to Mason, raising his eyebrows in question.
Mason added two bills to the pile—almost half the money he’d brought with him, even though the best he had was two tens. “I call. I call you a liar and a criminal.”
Hector chuckled. “Dipping your wick in a willing well is no crime.”
“She wasn’t willing.”
The dealer cleared his throat, pursed his lips, tugged at his collar. At last, he tossed two coins into the pot with a shaking hand and muttered, “I’ll call,” as if it was the last thing he wanted to do.
“All women are willing once they’re convinced,” Hector said. He spread his cards across the table with a self-satisfied smirk that turned Mason’s stomach. “I’m very persuasive. Three jacks.”
Mason slammed his cards on the table, glaring at Hector, wishing he had a pistol, loaded and ready.
