“That works for me. I’ll let Jake know. He can select which of my men go with each group. Tomorrow morning, first thing, we’ll start.” Grant wanted to push the search before Luther had a chance to regroup. No one had any idea how many men they might run into. It made no sense to take chances.
******
Denver, Colorado
Connor stood propped against a wall, arms crossed, and surveyed the occupants of the bar. Pierce was at one end, Nelson at the other. All had been quiet since Connor shot the cowboy who’d threatened Pierce. No one wanted a repeat any time soon.
He tried to keep his focus on the patrons, the gambling, and conversations—anything to stop his thoughts of Meggie. She’d been sixteen when she had failed to return from her job as a maid, and it had been his fault. He was supposed to meet her each night after her shift was over, but he’d been held up at his job on the docks. The overseer refused to let him leave, and forced Connor to work far into the night. When he’d made it back to their cramped room there was no sign of her. That night everything about his life had changed, again. He never stayed in one place more than a few months, never again had a home. His whole purpose focused on finding his sister. But too many dead ends, false leads, and flat out deceits had made him cynical, cautious. Even so, he could still sense a tiny amount of hope at the prospect that Mayfield might have some useful information.
“Connor?” He looked up to see Nelson walking toward him. “Ira wants to see you.”
He pushed from the wall and made his way up the stairs. Ira had worked without stopping since his return from San Francisco, but had yet to provide Connor with any further details of the trip—and Connor needed details.
“You wanted to see me?” Connor asked as he closed the door and took a seat.
“Yes. Whiskey?” At Connor’s nod, Ira poured another shot and handed the glass to his guest. “You asked me earlier about my meeting in San Francisco and expressed an interest in the business I’m negotiating.” Ira took a sip of the golden liquid and let it make its way down his throat. A slow, soothing burn.
“You seemed pleased with the potential. What’s it about?”
“Money, Connor. Lots of money.” He finished the drink and placed the glass carefully next to the half full decanter, deciding whether or not to indulge further. He decided to wait. “I have an import business. Products come in from Canada for my buyers in California. Purchases by these new customers will almost triple the orders to my supplier.”
“And the merchandise?”
“Let’s just say it is a highly sought after product in some circles, used for a variety of purposes, and carries a very high profit.” Ira’s evasive answer irked Connor.
“Are you saying it’s illegal?”
“In some locations, regulated in others, even disdained by those who don’t understand its value—physical and mental.”
Physical and mental. What did that mean? Connor wondered. Ira spoke in riddles that made no sense.
“How so?”
“My product brings peace of mind. It can change lives.”
“What the hell does that mean, Walsh?” Connor was tired of the theatrics. He wanted specifics.
But Ira had finished. He wanted to throw out just enough to get Connor interested, but not enough for him to grasp the full impact of the import business. At least not yet. “We’ll meet again tomorrow, Connor, and I’ll tell you more.” Ira looked at his watch and reached for his overcoat. “I’m late for a supper engagement.”
Chapter Sixteen
Cold Creek, Colorado
“I’m going with you.” Hands on her hips, Tess glared at the man in front of her.
“No.”
“You need me. I can help.” She insisted.
“Not this time. It’s too dangerous. If we find the gang I don’t want you there—I might not be able to protect you.” The conversation was over as far as Drew was concerned.
“Protect me? You don’t need to protect me. You taught me to shoot. You know I can help. Besides, you can’t keep me here.” She stomped away from him to the hooks holding her horse’s bridle. Her body shook with frustration. He was being obstinate and she wouldn’t have any of it.
Drew took a couple of calming breaths. He’d walked across his bedroom four times last night and hadn’t waivered once, but only Jericho knew it. He was tempted to rise from the chair and physically restrain Tess from endangering her life. But he knew the anger he felt toward her would hinder his attempts to walk. No, he’d wait.
“Maybe I can’t make you, but Grant will have a fit if he learns you rode out with us.”
“You wouldn’t.” The words hissed out of her. She stopped midway through pulling the saddle off the rail.
He’d never seen her this angry. Why couldn’t she understand? The other women weren’t going. Both Kate and Amanda were better riders, better shots, yet they understood.
He lowered his voice in an attempt to quell his irritation. “No, but he’ll find out, and when he does, there’ll be hell to pay. Is that what you want?”
She wiped an arm across her forehead, more from agitation than the heat in the barn. Tess couldn’t remember the last time the large, cavernous space had felt this hot. Her temper was getting the best of her and Drew was the cause. She never, ever, spoke in anger. Disappointment, fear, self-doubt had plagued her much of her life, but she was always capable of keeping the anger she felt tucked inside, hidden from those around her. But this man brought everything out. All the good and all the bad.
Tess raised her head to the ceiling and closed her eyes. She could lie to him. Say she’d stay, then follow at a safe distance. But that wasn’t her way.
“Do what you feel is best, Drew. I won’t stop you. I couldn’t if I tried. At the same time, I won’t allow you to tell me I can’t ride along. It’s my choice, not yours.” A thought popped into her head. It was a risk but necessary. “Just like it was your choice to stay and help Will. None of us could have made that decision for you and no one faulted you the choice you made.”
Drew’s eyes turned to stone at her words. He swallowed hard. Yes, he’d made that choice, and he’d make the same one again. Stay to help his brother, Will. It had been an easy decision. That choice had cost him the use of his legs, and left him with the fear that the paralysis would be permanent. Even now, after thinking he’d never walk again, he knew he’d make the same decision.
He rolled his chair forward until it almost touched her dress. He reached out and took both of her hands in his, pulled them toward him, and turned them palm side up. He proceeded to place kisses on her soft, exposed wrists and the palms of each hand, then held them tight. His worried eyes turned to hers, an unspoken plea.
“Yes, you must make the decision that is best for you. I won’t stop you. But losing you is not an option for me, Tess. I don’t know that I can keep you safe if trouble finds us. And that same thing may hold true for you. Will you be able to stay focused if your attention is on me?”
Her heart pounded at his gentle touch and heartfelt words. She was conflicted. She loved him, didn’t want to lose him, and felt that by being close she could keep him safe. What if she was wrong and her presence put him in more danger? She felt like screaming at the logic of his words—and she never screamed.
“I don’t like you going without me,” she confessed.
“I know.”
“I don’t want to lose you.”
“I know that too.”
She took a ragged breath, moved her hands to his shoulders, and leaned down to place a soft kiss on his lips. “You’ll be careful?”
“I’ll do my best. I am so close to my dreams, all of them, Tess. Believe me, I don’t intend to lose even one.”
She reached inside to compose herself. “Do you need any help getting ready?”
Jericho walked into the barn, stepped behind the wheelchair and grabbed the handles. “We’re all set, Mr. MacLaren.”
“I guess we’re ready.” Drew look
ed at Tess and a slight smile tugged at his mouth. “We’ll be back before you realize we’re even gone.”
Tess watched the three groups ride out. Each going in a different direction and each searching for the same dangerous men who’d vandalized, beaten, and murdered.
As she walked up the front steps, Tess stopped and, for the first time, focused on his words. I am so close to my dreams, all of them, Tess. Believe me, I don’t intend to lose even one.
She hoped she knew what those dreams were.
******
Denver, Colorado
Connor spotted Chester Mayfield, his contact who worked for Alexander McCann, from a block away. It wasn’t hard. He seemed almost as round as he was tall, and appeared to jump over one mud hole, then another, in an attempt to keep his already ruined suit from becoming a rag. Connor would have chuckled at the sight if not for the reason he was meeting with him.
Connor’s mind went to his sister. Meggie. Maybe today he’d learn what he needed to find her. He’d known Alex McCann for many years, worked with him for a time. McCann was Connor’s age and had known Meggie, knew the misery her disappearance had caused him and his brother. After the numerous false starts, Alex was careful about potential leads and getting Connor’s hopes up.
A scream pierced his thoughts. He snapped his head up to see a group of people surrounding something or someone on the ground. Panic seized him. Connor ran to the site and saw Mayfield sprawled on the ground, one leg twisted at an odd angle and blood streaming from his mouth. The owner of the rig who’d run him down was already by his side.
“The fool walked right out in front of me. I couldn’t stop the horses in time.” The driver’s voice shook as much as his hands, which rested on Mayfield’s arm
“Get a doctor. And a wagon,” Connor ordered as he knelt to check for signs of life. He found a slight pulse.
Hours later he was still in the waiting room of Denver’s Union Pacific Hospital, sometimes sitting, but more often pacing.
“Are you waiting for Mr. Mayfield?” The doctor had walked up without making a sound.
“Yes, I’m Connor, a friend.”
“Well, we’ve done all we can at this point. His broken leg and arm are set. He’s suffered a severe concussion but with rest, that will pass. Our main concern is additional internal bleeding. We’ve done what we can, but this accident was devastating to Mr. Mayfield’s body. He’s lucky to be alive.”
Connor’s slim hopes of learning about Meggie slipped away as the doctor spoke. “How long before he’s able to talk?”
“I won’t know for at least a day, maybe more. But we’ll keep a close watch on him. He won’t be left alone.”
Connor shook the doctor’s hand and trudged from the hospital onto the street. It was a clear, bright day. At any other time he might have found himself appreciating the crisp air and beautiful mountains near Denver. Today he didn’t even notice them.
He’d telegraphed McCann’s office the previous day and learned that his long-time friend, Mayfield’s boss, had left on a ship for Europe. Alex had entrusted his man with delivering the latest news to Connor. Again, Connor felt despair snake around him and take hold. A despair that he’d never quite been able to shake.
******
Ira sat at his desk. Anger like he hadn’t felt for years consumed him.
The latest news had just been delivered and stared up at him in the form of a telegram. The words caused an almost manic hate. It was from a contact in New York who’d learned of a conversation among a group of businessmen the previous week. One man in particular had made a strong impression on the others. He’d talked about a businessman in Denver whom he and his peers suspected of grievous illegal actions.
When asked what the businessmen planned to do about it, he mentioned that they’d hired a Range Detective, a previous Texas Ranger, who’d also had a brief turn with Pinkerton’s. The man from Denver felt they were close to obtaining what was needed to make an arrest for his various crimes. Crimes that stretched from rustling to smuggling illicit merchandise. Those final words were the ones that grabbed Ira’s attention.
He crumbled the missive and threw it across the room. Who the hell was this man? This lawman who observed him without Ira becoming suspicious? He’d checked out each man and woman who worked for him. Their background, contacts, arrests, habits, and skills. He didn’t hire anyone who didn’t have some type of criminal past. That, it turned out, had been the easiest attribute to find. There were thousands of men out West who’d broken the law.
What had he missed?
His agitated mind didn’t allow him to rest. He jumped from his chair and stalked to the wall safe, unlocked it, and checked inside. Everything was in its place, as it had been last night and yesterday morning, and each day since he’d taken over the Denver Rose.
San Francisco. That was the only time he’d been gone in months. Could someone have found his safe as well as the private ledger? He was so careful. No one knew of the safe. He kept the regular book on his desk each day, only putting it away at night. The other two were only brought out when he was alone. He slammed the safe door, rotated the knob, and again asked himself what he’d missed.
Ira ran both hands through is hair. His anger had subsided, somewhat, but the ball of fear in his gut grew. He had to find the person responsible. Find him and silence him. This might be one kill he’d make himself.
******
Cold Creek, Colorado
“See anything, Grant?” Jamie asked as they approached the small line shack.
They’d covered several miles on their trek up the mountain. Jamie had spotted tracks a few miles back—horse tracks—but lost them in the dense brush.
“Someone has been here, but can’t tell how long ago. Fire’s cold.” Grant walked out of the eight-by-ten foot structure to look around the area. “Can’t tell if Luther and his men were here at some point, but they sure aren’t here now.”
He and Jamie, along with Tinder and Hal—both men who’d worked at the Big G for years—had made a wide cut of the land on their way to the shack and found nothing.
Grant took off his hat and wiped his arm across his damp forehead. “I’d like to check one more place before we head back. I forgot about it last night. It’s not far, a patchwork of caves up in the rocks, but it’s worth checking.”
It took them longer than anticipated to find the entrance. It had been twenty years since Grant had first discovered the group of caves that spidered off the entrance. There was a large central cave, which he’d always thought of as the main meeting room. Narrow passageways, branching off the core, led to smaller caves. All the ones he’d found years ago had shown signs of being inhabited at some point. He’d never stayed around long enough to run into anyone. From various markings he’d found, Grant guessed it had been used by the Ute Indians, trappers, and outlaw groups.
They spent an hour searching, but found nothing to indicate anyone had been living in or using the caves. “Nothing. Looks like no one has been here in years.” Grant hoped the others were having more success. “Guess it’s time to ride back.”
Jamie didn’t want to give up, but knew Grant was right. They were tired and had no idea where else to look.
The four mounted their horses and began the trip back to the ranch.
******
Frank had taken his group on a direct route to the old cabin. It surprised him that once they started he’d been able to recall the location. It was much the same as the last time he’d seen it. Dilapidated wood, crumbling roof, infested interior, and overgrown brush. Large trees surrounded it, but a small clearing had been made. For whatever reason the shrubs had never reappeared.
Niall rode Zeus in a large circle around the old cabin in one direction while one of Grant’s men rode the opposite. They met in front of the cabin. Both had found evidence that someone had been at the cabin not too long before, but there was no telling who. Niall dismounted and followed some tracks away from the cabin.
> Frank walked out with a small tin of coffee and an old blanket. The floor and walls had been cleaned at some point since he’d last seen it three month ago, but it didn’t make sense that a gang of murderers would clean up their hole. Frank suspected that a lone person had discovered it, used the cabin for a short time, and then moved on.
“Frank, come over here,” Niall called from several yards into the surrounding forest.
When Frank found him, Niall held a kerchief over his nose and was crouching, using a stick to push dirt back from the top of what appeared to be a hole. A man-sized hole. Both men began to dig in earnest and before long both could see fabric sticking through the dirt. They removed more dirt as fast as possible until they found the decomposing body of a man. He still wore his shirt and trousers, but his boots, hat, and any weapon he may have carried were missing.
“Do you recognize him, Frank?” Niall asked, choking from the odor. He noticed that Alts had also pulled a handkerchief from a pocket to ward off the smell.
“Might. He may be one of the missing wranglers from the Bierdan ranch, Hap Whidley. He disappeared just before Dave Dawson went missing. Dawson’s body was found a couple of weeks ago. If this is Whidley, then at some point I’m guessing Luther and his men were here, but it appears they’ve moved out.” Frank stood and brushed off his pants. “I’ll get a blanket and wrap him up. We’d better get the body to Bierdan’s to make sure if it’s Hap.”
******
“That’s Hap,” Jeff said when Frank pulled back the blanket. The Bierdan foreman had thought he’d seen a lot in the years since he’d fought in the War Between the States, but he never got used to seeing a dead body. Especially one ravaged from being in the ground. The skin was horribly deteriorated, but Jeff was still certain. “He always wore two kerchiefs, and that shirt is one his mother sent him a couple of months ago. God, I hate to be the one to send her a message that her son’s not coming home.”
Stronger Than the Rest Page 14
