by Alison Bruce
"Most comfortable. Though I think I'm going to miss the bathtub."
"No need to, sir," Fred assured her. "Room five has been set aside for your use any time you need it. I know the marshal has his reasons for not staying at The Oasis. None of them should interfere with either of you using the room for baths."
"Thank you."
"And please do not hesitate to make use of our launderer either. Just bring your things to Henry."
"Thank you, sir."
Fred coughed gently.
"Er…thank you, Fred," Marly amended.
"Think of it as a title," the Señora advised when Fred left them to get coffee. "You are not being disrespectful."
"It would be easier if he called me Marly."
"Señor Fred follows his own set of rules. He does not talk about his past. He has mentioned that he was a gentleman's gentleman―a personal servant. He said his temper got the better of him. I believe he was forced to leave England."
Marly frowned. She couldn't imagine what Fred could have done to warrant being kicked out of his home country. On the other hand, maybe he had been falsely accused, as she had been.
"Whatever his reason, Señor Fred is determined to be the servant and he has cast you as the young gentleman."
"He's more the gentleman than me," Marly said.
Señora de Vegas made a small choking sound, like a hastily swallowed laugh.
Fred brought coffee, biscuits and fresh fruit. After dessert, he gave them a tour of his rose garden, pointing out the different varieties and describing their origins and qualities. As they walked, he paused occasionally to pull a weed or nip a faded bloom.
Beyond the roses was Louis' kitchen garden and herbary. It was as esthetically laid out as the roses. If she could ever bring herself to write Aunt Adele, Marly would have to send her the plan.
Between the two gardens was a path that led back to a chicken coop, pig pen and a shed for the goat that was kept staked out of reach of the flowers and produce.
"Who takes care of all this?" she asked.
"The pigs belong to the Trilby twins," the Señora explained. "The chickens are owned by the ladies, collectively. The goat is mine. We trade with The Oasis against our room and board. The Señorita doesn't mind how we contribute to the business as long as the bills are paid and the customers are happy."
"Different from what I expected," Marly admitted.
"Quite," Fred said. "Now, if you ladies will excuse me, my chief contribution to the cause is keeping the mistress happy. She should be rising from her postprandial nap about now."
He bowed and left.
It took several seconds before Marly noticed his slip.
After Fred departed, the Señora took Marly around and made introductions. Whatever Fred and possibly the Señora had divined, the ladies treated her like the young man she pretended to be. They were curious about the kid who had been taken under Marshal Strachan's wing and was now an interest of the taciturn Fred.
In the late afternoon, when it was time for the ladies to dress for the evening, Marly was kicked out. She left The Oasis via the gate in Louis' garden and checked at the stables on her way to the office. Grandee was still out. Trouble was in the corral and came to her expectantly.
That was encouragement enough for Marly to decide to meet Jase on the trail. She let Hank know she'd be back for Trouble and went to get her Winchester.
The office was locked up tight.
To go, or not to go, that was the question.
Chances were she would meet Jase just outside of town. He'd been gone all afternoon and must be on his way back. Hank had saddled Trouble for her, refusing her coin for his services. It would be churlish not to go out.
Marly swung into the saddle with something almost like grace and let Trouble set the pace out of town.
Jase was having mixed luck. When he reached the Lazy-E Ranch he discovered that Matt Egan was visiting outposts on his far ranges. The ranch foreman, Tierny, reluctantly entertained him and though the man was neither communicative nor overly cooperative, he did show Jase around and answered direct questions.
It was obvious that Tierny was loyal to the Egan family. Matt Egan Sr. had given him his start almost forty years ago. Tierny had grown up working the Egan ranges. His prime was spent ramrodding Lazy-E cattle. Now he managed the ranch, answering only to Matt Jr.
As he was shown around, Jase observed the man. Though on the shady side of fifty, Tierny was still powerfully built. Iron muscles matched iron-gray hair and eyes. He looked strong and agile enough to take Strothers down. He didn't strike Jase as the murderous type, but Jase knew his kind. Tierny had given his loyalty to the Egan family. He would do anything he felt necessary to protect them.
"What kind of men does Egan hire?" he asked Tierny. "Are there any new faces around?"
"There are new faces every season. Not every cowboy is willing or able to stick to one place."
Jase knew many were drifters, hired on as needed.
"I'm choosy about those I hire," Tierny said. "If there's even a whiff of the outlaw on him, he can go elsewhere. Mr. Egan trusts my judgment, but if I ain't sure, all I got to do is introduce the buck to the boss. Mr. Egan knows his men. He's a canny one."
All it took was a well-phrased remark to encourage Tierny in extolling the virtues of his employer.
"Egan's a tough and fair. Above all, he rewards loyalty. He demands the best of his men, and generally got it. He's generous to a fault."
In the same breath, Tierny assured Jase that the boss wasn't likely to have the wool pulled over his eyes and he could be ruthless as he was generous.
"Would you like some coffee, Marshal?"
"No, thanks." Jase paused. "What do you remember about the night of the murder?"
The man's mouth shut tighter than a miser's purse.
"Well?" Jase said.
"Don't remember a thing."
"Where were you that night?"
Tierny shrugged. "Maybe I was in town. Maybe I wasn't."
"Did you see anyone strange that night?"
"I can't rightly recall."
Jase gritted his teeth. "Well, thanks for your hospitality. You'll have to drop by the office some time."
Tierny scowled. "I will, will I?"
"For a friendly chat. Share some of my coffee. Maybe you'll remember something."
"Doubt it."
Looking back over his shoulder as he rode off, Jase noticed Tierny leaning against a corral post, lighting up a cigar.
He wondered if it was a Fuego.
At the Bar-B Ranch, Baker's house was nearly as impressive as Egan's. While flowers, shade trees and a neatly scythed lawn had surrounded Egan's home, Baker's landscaping consisted of a couple of half-dead trees, a flagstone walk and a lot of hard-packed earth.
At the Egan place, everyone was busily employed, but Baker had several men hanging around, on call for a show of force. One of those men was Tom Tyson, the man who had drawn on Jase at The Haven. His right arm was in a sling, but judging by his left-handed rig, he could compensate.
Before Jase reached the yard, Tyson barked, "Boss!"
His master appeared.
Baker was as dry and hard as his yard, greeting Jase with a scowl. "What are you doing here, Ranger?"
"Investigating a murder, Mr. Baker. Your cooperation would be appreciated."
"Would it?"
"I'd like your permission to talk to your men about the night Ellery Strothers was killed."
Baker gave him a half smile. "We work for a living around here, Ranger. If you want to talk to my men, you'll have to find them in town on their time off."
"Won't take long and I won't interfere with their work."
Baker shook his head. "I'd prefer it if you got off my land."
"You can make that request right now, sir, but it doesn't look good when supposedly upright citizens are so uncooperative. Makes it seem like you're hiding something. Think on that."
"The law hasn't been a
nyone's friend around here. It's brought this town nothing but distress. Strothers gave few people reason to trust him." Baker cocked his head. "You haven't fared much better. Think on that, Ranger."
Jase did. He also thought the man was hiding something.
About the same time Jase was leaving the Baker place, Marly was riding up the road, approaching the site of Strothers' murder. A trickle of sweat tickled her back. As the gully closed in, she felt a chill. Trouble felt it too and balked.
"Don't want to go there?" She reached down and patted his neck. "That's okay by me. Shall we go back or go on?"
She found a place to scramble up the bank they took to the open country. Trouble's impatience to run decided the issue. She pushed her hat firmly down and let the horse have his head. As they galloped over the hill, the breeze blew away the ghosts.
Trees cut them off from the road for a stretch. Further along, Marly had to circle around a patch of scrub and stone. She intended to rejoin the road on the other side, but was intercepted by three cowboys riding south.
They came on her suddenly.
Looking down at her saddle holster, she winced. She'd left her rifle behind at the office.
She continued at a fast trot, but they veered off, blocking her. She slowed Trouble to a trot, reigning in about six feet away.
One of the riders was Jed, the freckle-nosed young man Duke sometimes employed. Another cowboy she remembered from the livery. He was the one who had spat at her from The Haven porch. The third man was a stranger.
"Afternoon, gentlemen," she said politely.
She couldn't fight and flight wasn't practical. That left hoping for the best and trying to act braver than she felt.
"So here's the marshal's spy," said the spitter. He pushed his hat back, revealing greasy brown hair. "Don't look like much, does he?"
"Not much at all, Roy," Jed concurred, obviously the most junior of the three.
The third cowboy was older. He had a leathery tanned face and small black eyes. He hung back slightly, watching and chewing on the end of a cigar.
Marly eyed him with some curiosity. She also spared Roy enough attention to notice him gathering up a wad of spit.
She jerked Trouble out of range.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," she said, giving them a nod. "I'm meeting Marshal Strachan up the road."
She started to wheel Trouble around, but Roy blocked her and signaled Jed to take a position blocking the other direction. She backed up. The third cowboy moved in behind her.
Surrounded, she shivered.
Roy gave a low chuckle of amusement. "Scared?"
Beyond fear, all she could think of was how angry Jase was going to be. She had been so stupid, riding out without a rifle. Forget the trouble she was in now, what if she'd met a wildcat or a coyote? What if Trouble had disturbed a rattler?
Well, a rattler won't bother you if you don't bother it, she recalled Aunt Adele telling her repeatedly.
That dark-eyed cowboy struck her that way―a coiled snake who wouldn't strike without reason.
Best not to give him reason.
Roy was another matter. He was a classic bully, intent on playing a cat and mouse game with her. She wasn't sure what she would do about him. Jed, on the other hand, reminded her of the boys attending her aunt's one-room schoolhouse. They'd strut like the cock of the yard, looking bigger and tougher than they really were.
Marly fixed Jed with a hard stare. "Is this as good as you were brought up? Did no one teach you better?" She turned to Roy and shook her head. "You think I'm an easy mark? Maybe, but you'd be borrowing a lot of trouble messing with me. You could beat me, even kill me, it wouldn't stop the marshal's investigation. Besides, attacking an unarmed man, three against one, that's just plain cowardly."
Roy sidled forward, reaching out as if to pull her off her horse, but Marly backed up toward Jed, who hastily stepped out of her way.
She had her opening. All she needed was a small diversion.
As if in answer to her prayers, she heard the faint clip-clop of hooves in the distance.
"Let's go," the third man said, tossing his cigar.
"Not yet," Roy said. "You got a badge under that bandana, boy?"
Marly stood her ground, waiting for Roy to reach out. When he did, she grabbed his arm with both hands and yanked hard. Instinctively, Trouble backed away and Roy was unseated. With a shriek of rage, the man thudded to the ground. Jumping to his feet, he grabbed at her foot. Trouble was having none of that and knocked Roy over.
Marly spurred Trouble between Jed and Roy's horse.
"Get him," Roy hollered.
Jed started to follow, but Trouble seemed to have sprouted wings. The horse flew toward the road, gliding over the rough ground, sailing over the berm and crossing the wheel-rutted trail.
Marly blew out a pent up breath.
Jase heard shouting and urged Grandee from a trot to a canter. The next thing he knew, Marly and Trouble were flying toward him, followed closely by two cautious riders, who skidded down the short embankment and ended up staring down the business end of Jase's carbine.
One man managed to stop. The other wasn't as quick. Panicking, he reined in sharply with little regard to his horse's mouth. In retaliation, his beleaguered mount bucked and threw him. The young man sat up, a stunned expression on his face as his horse rode off without him.
Jase ignored him and kept his rifle trained on the man still mounted. "Who is the instigator of this melee?"
Before the man could answer, a third man rode up, halting on the top of the grassy ledge.
Jase waited until Marly wheeled Trouble abreast of Grandee.
"So, brat, what trouble have you got into this time?"
His eyes flicked from one man to the other.
"We were just having a little fun with the boy," the man on the ground said. He attempted a smile. "No harm done."
"Well, brat?"
"I thought I might meet you on the trail. Instead, I met these fellas. I don't think they like me."
"No accountin' for taste. Where's your rifle?"
"I couldn't get into the office."
Jase grunted and handed her the Winchester.
"Sorry," she said.
"We'll discuss it later."
He hunched forward, leaned his hands on his thighs and addressed the cowboys. "All right, boys. Let's have a few introductions. I'm Marshal Strachan. This is my assistant, Landers. Who the hell are you?"
Chapter 8
Marly waited, but there was no answer from any of the men. Roy played deaf and looked sullen. Jed couldn't seem to find his voice. The black-eyed man acted as if the question didn't apply to him.
Roy moved, maybe to get ready to make a run for it, maybe to try his luck against Jase's draw.
Marly took no chances. She swung the rifle level with his face.
Roy froze.
"We can do this nice," Jase continued, as if nothing had occurred. "Or I can take you in and you can do your talkin' from a jail cell. What'll it be?"
Roy's eyes moved from Jase to Marly, his contempt obvious. "Won't be the first time I've seen the inside of that jail."
Jed, who had since scrambled to his feet and backed off to a safe distance, looked up sharply. He didn't seem to like the direction things were going.
"He's Roy Parker," the third man said, his voice betraying a trace of a New England accent. It sounded odd coming from a man who otherwise blended in. "That's Jed McKinley. Jed works where he can get it. Parker and I are with the Bar-B."
Jase's eyes narrowed. "And you are?"
"Locke." The cowboy made a point of keeping his hands where they could see them. "These boys got out of hand, Marshal. Landers has put up a few backs. They just wanted to scare him a little. I wouldn't have let them hurt the boy."
Marly stole a sideways glance at Jase.
"All right," he said. "I'll let it go this time. But you mark me, boys, and set the word 'round. I only have so much patience. Less when it comes to
bullies. Get on your way."
Jed headed back to town, while Roy and Locke veered south.
Once they were out of earshot, Marly said, "Can we go back the way I came?"
Jase nodded, taking the lead until they reached open country.
"I suppose," he said after a few minutes silence, "I should get you a key to the office."
"I suppose." She brought Trouble abreast of Grandee. "But I shouldn't have gone out without a rifle."
"No. You shouldn't have."
"I sure was glad to see you." When Jase didn't respond, she added, "Want your rifle back?"
"Nope. Hold on to it. We're not home yet."
Marly slowed when they reached the place the cowboys had stopped her. She searched the ground, but couldn't find what she was looking for.
The cigar butt.
"Which way were they headed when you met them, brat?"
"Southeast."
"Egan's place."
"You think they're messengers from Baker?"
"If they are, it ain't Egan they're takin' word to. He's gone 'til the end of the week. Baker would know that, I expect."
They rode toward town.
"What do you think's going on?" she asked.
"I don't know what to think. Seems most folks 'round here would rather aid a killer than the lawman after him. Knowing Strothers, can't say I blame 'em much. That hombre had a real talent for setting backs up."
"What did he do to get on the wrong side of you?"
Jase didn't answer at first and she wondered if she'd overstepped some boundary.
"He abused his power," he said finally.
Marly set her mouth in a firm line and waited.
"I knew Strothers back in my Battalion days. Even then, he thought he was something else. A handsome smooth-talker and quick draw, which always impresses. He knew how to look good to those who could help him on his way. The flip side of that coin was that if you couldn't help him, he didn't care about you. He didn't care whose toes he trod on to get ahead. He got himself promoted based on that, not his abilities."
Jase took a swig from his canteen and offered it to her. He must have just refilled it because the water was cold and fresh.
"I don't know how much you know about the Texas Rangers," he said. "We've been the law, order and militia almost since there was a Texas. Since there's not too many of us and a lot of state to cover, Rangers wield a fair amount of power. We've also been known to stretch the bounds of our jurisdiction."
