Brooks flexed his right arm. “What? You doubt my masculine ability?”
Her cheeks flushed and her eyes widened. “No, that’s not at all what I meant. It’s quite heavy, that’s all.”
He tucked in his lips, pleasantly pleased with her response, and guided the wagon down Main Street. His heart clenched as he passed the small house he’d lived in with Will. A woman came out the open door and tossed a bucket of soapy water into the street. Evidently, the old coot who owned the place had already rented it. He’d hoped to visit the place again, but it wasn’t to be.
At the train station, Keri handed the clerk her claim ticket, and fifteen minutes later, with the help of a brawny freight worker, the oversized trunk was loaded, taking up nearly half of the wagon bed and sinking his hopes of impressing Keri with his strength.
“What’s in that thing, anyway?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Mainly my gowns, some books I bought to read on cold winter nights, and my unmention—” Her cheeks grew a rosy red, and she turned her face away. “That’s about all.”
She’d almost mentioned her unmentionables. He helped her back aboard, biting back a grin, and then drove to the marshal’s office. “Do you want to wait in the buckboard while I talk to the marshal?”
Pinning him with a stare, she asked, “Would you like to wait in the wagon while I talk to Marshal Lane?”
“Uh … no, ma’am.” He lifted her down and escorted her into the marshal’s office.
The marshal stood and tipped his hat. The office looked just the same as the last time Brooks was there—bare wood and wanted posters lining several walls. An old stove sat in one corner beside a door that led to two cells in back.
“Good to see you folks.” The marshal’s gaze focused on Keri. “How are you getting by, Miss Langston? This rascal treating you good and fairly?” Marshal Lane held out his hand, indicating for Keri to sit in the chair by the wall and winked at Brooks over her head.
“Most of the time, I suppose.”
“If he’s not, I can lock him up for a few days and straighten him out.”
“Thank you, but no. I’d lose my backup cook if you did that.”
The marshal chuckled and rubbed his moustache. “Things been quiet up your way?”
Keri looked at Brooks, and his hand went to his throat, tracing the line that was barely visible any more.
“Oh, I don’t know. Mr. Morgan, here, would have been dead if I hadn’t happened along at the exact moment I did.”
Marshal Lane straightened in his chair, his gaze flicking between Keri and Brooks. “What does that mean?”
“It was Dengler’s men,” Keri stated.
“Better let me tell the story since you weren’t there for the whole thing.” The look she threw over her shoulder told Brooks she didn’t like being hushed, but she nodded.
He relayed all the details about his near hanging.
The marshal stood and paced to the door and back. “When did this happen?”
“The day I first rode out to the ranch.”
“The day I first returned home,” Keri said at the same time.
“Why are you just now telling me?” He pulled a rifle from the rack on the wall and checked it for ammunition.
Brooks pushed away from the wall he was leaning against. “Because I was wounded, and anxious to get to the ranch, and I didn’t want any more trouble with Dengler until I knew how things stood.”
“Sounds like they came darn close to killing you and stealing Raven Creek. That’s not something I can overlook.”
“If I can, why can’t you?” Brooks locked gazes with the marshal. “Men like Dengler have ten men to replace the two you’d arrest, and those ten would be gunning for us. We’re better off to turn our face the other way and try to get along.”
“I’ve been waiting for a long while to pin a crime on Saul Dengler.”
Brooks nodded. “I’m sure you have, but he’ll just hand over those two men and deny he knew anything about the attempted lynching.”
“Maybe. But I can make those men talk.”
“True. But will a forced confession hold up in court?”
The marshal brushed the back of his hand across the bristle on his jaw. “Probably not.” He spat at a spittoon in the corner then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “My apologies, Miss Langston.”
“Has there been any headway in finding out who killed my uncle?”
Marshal Lane dropped back down in his chair. “Nobody said that Will was killed, Miss Langston.” His gaze slid past Keri and latched onto Brooks. He cleared his throat. “I can tell you that the doctor suspects foul play, and so do I, especially since there was also the robbery that night. I believe someone was looking for something.”
Keri slid to the edge of the chair and leaned toward Marshal Lane. “I can tell you for certain that my uncle would never take his life, especially knowing I was returning home so soon.” She ducked her head.
Brooks heard a sniffle from Keri’s direction, and his heart seized up. He rested his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I agree. Will was in a lot of pain, but you know as well as I do that it didn’t affect his outlook.”
Keri jumped up, her fists balling at her side. “You’ve got to find the person responsible, Marshal. My uncle was a good man.”
The marshal rose. “I agree, but we need to have some patience in this instance. Men like to brag about such things, and time and whiskey loosens lips. We’ll find out what happened sooner or later.”
Keri nodded and wiped the corner of her eyes with her forefinger. “All right. I will try. We appreciate your efforts on our behalf.” She walked out the door without looking at Brooks, but he couldn’t help noticing that she’d said “we,” not “I.”
He shook Marshal Lane’s hand again, and the marshal clapped him on the shoulder. “You all be careful out there. Far as I know, Dengler and his men have never hurt a woman, but the rest of you could be in danger, especially since his land borders yours.”
“We’ll keep a watch out.” Brooks rubbed the nape of his neck. “Any idea why Dengler would want Raven Creek? It’s a good-sized piece of land, but he’s blocked the water, and things are drying up. I don’t know as there’s anything more special about it than any other land around here.”
“Dengler’s just land hungry. He doesn’t need a reason. I think it’s his goal to own all the land in this county.”
Brooks bid the marshal good day and strode outside to find Keri. She stood at the end of the walkway, her arm wrapped around a post as if she needed support. He closed the distance between them. “You all right?”
She shrugged, then sniffed. “Someone killed Uncle Will. I just know it in my gut.” She wiped her eyes with a fancy, embroidered handkerchief edged in lace then turned. Her lips and chin wobbled, and her pretty eyes were red, matching her nose. “I just keep thinking about his last moments and wondering if he was fighting for his life. Was he—worrying about me?” She fell forward, and Brooks wrapped his arms around her, holding her close in spite of the spectacle they made.
“Shh … we’ll find out who did this, I promise.”
Keri jerked free, leaving his arms empty. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Mr. Morgan.”
Keri marched down the boardwalk along Main Street, trying to gain hold of her emotions. Just a few weeks ago, she’d been so excited about returning home, but little did she know then that everything had changed. She had no family. The house she lived in no longer belonged to her. She couldn’t live on Mr. Morgan’s generosity forever, but what could she do?
Sniffling, she took a moment to study the town. Several new buildings had been added at the far end of the street and in the middle where it looked as if there may have been a fire at one time. There were few new businesses, although—lucky her—a dressmaker shop had opened up across the street. Maybe the owner would be interested in purchasing some of her dresses.
Footsteps approached then Brooks stopped besi
de her. “Something wrong?”
“Why do you ask that?”
He leaned on the railing and stared down. “I don’t know. Given the fact that you were crying …”
She lifted her head. “Having watery eyes isn’t crying.”
A tiny grin pulled at his intriguing mouth. “It isn’t?”
“Are you laughing at me?”
His grin broke forth fully, revealing his straight, white teeth. “No, ma’am. I’m smarter than that.”
“Hmpf.” She crossed her arms and turned her back to him. He was nothing but a big kid, always joking and never taking things seriously. The ranch would probably fail within the year with him at the reins.
“We should tend to the rest of our business and then head out again. I don’t want to be on the road after dark, not with Dengler’s men out and about.”
She nodded and started down the stairs and across the alley. She passed the bank, then stopped suddenly as an idea sparked.
“Whoa, there,” Brooks said, bumping into her back. He lightly grabbed her shoulders. “Give a guy some warning when you’re going to rein in.”
“Why don’t you go see how things stand at the store? I want to go into the bank and check on my uncle’s account. It’s possible he might have left some funds there.” She fished her supply list out of her handbag and handed it to him.
“You sure you don’t want me to wait out here for you?”
She shook her head. “The store is just a few shops away. I’ll be fine.”
Brooks looked up and down the street as if checking for a problem, then he gave a single, curt nod. He tipped his hat, but she read the worry in his eyes. “See you in a few minutes.”
She reached for the knob of the bank’s door and watched him walk away. He was thoughtful to be concerned for her welfare, but it annoyed her at the same time. She scanned the streets, wondering what he’d been looking for. Several buggies and buckboards sat in front of stores, and a half dozen people—no one she recognized—strolled the street. Mr. Morgan’s anxiety was contagious, and she didn’t like worrying about something that might not even happen.
She pushed open the door, and the strong odor of furniture wax greeted her as did the clerk behind the sleek, wooden counter. A barred, glassless opening protected him from thieves, although it would do little to stop a bullet.
“How can I help you, ma’am?”
Keri sighed under her breath. Someone else she didn’t know. She walked over to the window. “I’m Keri Langston, niece of Will Langston. I’m sure you’ve heard that he passed on.”
The man nodded, his brown eyes filled with sympathy. “May I offer my condolences, Miss Langston.”
“Thank you, sir. I was wondering if my uncle left any funds in his account.”
The thin man frowned. “Hmm … let me take a look.” He crossed to a cabinet on the wall behind him and ran his finger down the row of drawers, then opened one and thumbed through the cards. He pulled one out and stared at it, then returned to the window. “Well, I can tell you that your uncle did leave some money in his account, but since your name isn’t on it, I regret that I can’t give it to you.”
Keri blinked, trying to comprehend what he’d said. “There’s money, but I can’t have it?”
He nodded.
“But I’m his only surviving relative.”
The clerk ducked his chin. “I’m sorry. If you have a will or a handwritten letter stating that you’re to inherit Mr. Langston’s holdings, then I could give it to you.”
Keri narrowed her gaze. “And just how am I supposed to get that when my uncle is dead? Murdered, in fact.”
The man’s eyes widened and he swallowed, causing his large Adam’s apple to bounce. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t heard that.”
“Is Mr. Powell in?” Maybe the bank manager could help her.
“No, ma’am. Mr. Powell sold the bank last year and moved to St. Louis to tend his ailing mother. Mr. Arnold Michaels is the proprietor now.”
Fat lot of help another stranger would be. “And what happens to the funds if there is no will?”
“Usually the money goes to the town account after a year if no one claims it.”
“I see.” Keri pursed her lips. She considered having a crying spell like women at the school had done when they didn’t get their way, but she doubted it would have an impact on this hard-hearted soul. “I’ll just have to see if I can find the will.”
“Keri?”
She spun around at the familiar voice. She’d been so engrossed in her conversation that Carl Peters had walked in without her hearing him.
“Is there something I can do to help you?” he asked.
“How could you help?”
“Well …” He puffed out his chest. “I work here now.” He glanced at the clerk. “Explain the situation to me, Matthew.”
Keri waited while the man relayed their conversation. She hoped Carl could help her get access to her uncle’s funds, but she hated to be indebted to him. Carl listened to the man, then he took hold of Keri’s arm and walked her to the far side of the room.
“I’m sorry, but without the will, our hands are tied.” He leaned in close, and Keri forced herself to hold her ground and not step back. “If you’re having hard times, I could loan you some money.”
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. We’ll manage.”
Carl reached for her hand. “I could make things so much easier for you, if you’d just let me. I have a big home now on a large section of land a short way from town. It’s filled with beautiful furniture.”
Keri tugged her hand away. “I’m not ready to make a decision yet, Carl. I need to head home. Thank you for your offer of help.”
She spun around and marched out the door, barely containing her emotions. How could Uncle Will gamble away the ranch and then leave her no money to live on? Did he not care for her enough to provide for her? Maybe his talk and smiles were just lies? Pulling her handkerchief from her sleeve, she dabbed her eyes before opening the door.
What a burden she must have been to her uncle—a bachelor who never married. A bachelor who suddenly had a young girl to raise. She hung her head, the pain of it all more than she could bear. Her mother had given her away. Was it too much to hope her uncle had loved her—at least a little?
She opened the door and waited for an approaching man to pass by.
“Keri, wait.” Carl took her arm and pulled her back inside the bank. “I don’t think you understand. I’ve just about gone loco the past two years that you’ve been gone. Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed you?”
Evidently far more than she had missed him.
“Now that you’re back, I’m hoping we can pick up things where we left off.”
“And just where was that?”
He blinked and stared at her, as if her response surprised him. “I had asked your uncle for your hand in marriage, but you left before I even got to tell you.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Keri’s heart jumped, like a horse clearing a stream. She stared up at Carl. “Did Uncle Will give you permission?”
Carl scowled for a moment, then resumed his normal placating gaze. “He said I’d have to ask you. That he wasn’t going to agree when he wasn’t sure how you felt.”
Some of the tension flowed out of her. At least he hadn’t agreed. “So many things have changed. I’m not ready to consider marriage at this time, Carl.”
“I can wait, but I hope to not wait much longer. You need help on your ranch, and I don’t like that drifter hanging around there.”
She tightened her fist until her nails bit into her hand. “Did you not understand me that day you visited? I no longer own Raven Creek. That drifter does.”
He looked as if he’d been slapped. “Then why are you still living there?”
“Because I have nowhere else to go.”
He snatched her hand again. “Then marry me. I’ll buy back your ranch, and we can live there and cast Mr. Morgan
out on his backside.”
Keri’s hope rose at the thought of getting ownership of Raven Creek, but was she willing to pay the price? Could she marry a man she cared nothing for, just for the sake of keeping her home?
She lifted her chin. “Thank you for such a generous offer. Let me consider it for a while.”
“Why? Marry me today.”
“Carl, my uncle just died. It would be improper to marry so soon. And you have no guarantee that Mr. Morgan will sell. He’s already come close to dying for that ranch.”
Carl’s eyes narrowed and his gaze turned chilly, making Keri wonder what had caused such a reaction. “All right, Keri. I’ll wait. But after two years, I’m no longer a patient man.”
She stepped back, not liking the iciness of his gaze. He had no right to demand anything of her. She’d made him no promises. The harness of a wagon jingled, pulling Keri’s attention away from Carl. Brooks stopped the wagon and hopped down, scowling. Relief made her knees weak. “Excuse me, but I need to go now.”
She slid around Carl and hurried down the steps. Brooks lifted her into the wagon, and she noticed he must have had better luck at the mercantile than she had at the bank.
They were a good two miles out of town before her heart resumed its normal pace. Brooks hadn’t said a thing, but she’d notice the muscles in his jaw twitching.
She leaned back in the seat and stared out at the passing scenery. A cluster of oak trees shaded them for a moment from the warm afternoon sun. Sweat trickled down her temple, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the heat or her recent marriage proposal. Had Carl truly asked her uncle if he could marry her? Why hadn’t Uncle Will told her?
Two years ago, the issue of her attending finishing school had come up rather suddenly, and her uncle had been adamant about it. Could Carl’s proposal have had anything to do with that?
Maybe his purpose in sending her had been to keep her away from Carl. But why?
Carl’s family ran a prosperous ranch on the far side of town. What objections could Uncle Will have had to her marrying him?—not that she wanted to.
End of the Trail Page 10
