Silver Belles and Stetsons

by Caroline Clemmons

  “I guess we'll find out when we get to town.”

  “You're taking me with you?”

  “Yes, we need to stop by the marshal's office so ye can give him all the information ye have about Will's death. We'll also have to alert the authorities about our marriage. I'm anticipating the need for a lawyer before the bank will make any changes.

  “Also," he said, making sure he had her attention. “I haven't buried anyone since I lived in California a few years ago but I believe Texas laws are different. The doctor will probably have to verify the cause of death.”

  He followed her line of sight as she glanced out the window.

  “Poor Will. After that, we’ll be able to bury him?”

  “Yes. Just as soon as the law says we can.”

  “Good.” Changing the subject, she asked, “Can we get some supplies while we're there?”

  “Yes, whatever ye need.” He stood and started to prepare the fireplace for their absence. “As soon as ye're ready, we better get a move on. It's going to be a long day.”

  Chapter Five

  Jamey sat beside Angel in front of the marshal's desk as the lawman filled out the report for Will's death.

  Marshal Jase Handley was an imposing man. An inch or two above six feet, he had an air of authority that commanded respect with a dose of fear. “So you say Will showed back up at the house?”

  “Yes,” Angel answered. “I found him between the barn and the house. He'd been shot.”

  “You didn't see anyone else? Where was his horse?”

  “No one, and Bull was nowhere in sight.”

  The marshal finished writing and then stroked his handlebar mustache in thought. “That's surprising,” he said. “Even if they were separated, his horse should've made his way back to the barn.”

  “I thought that odd, myself.” Jamey leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. “A horse knows where he belongs.”

  “Is there anything else you can think of, Mrs. Rivers?”

  “I-I'm not—” Angel covered her face with her hands.

  Jamey spoke up when he realized their situation was overwhelming her.

  “Mrs. Rivers and I were married yesterday.”

  “That so?” He jotted something in the margin. “Anything else, Mrs. O'Donnell?”

  “Yes, Marshal.” She glanced over as if seeking Jamey’s permission. He nodded his head in agreement for her to tell the marshal of the suspicions they’d discussed on their ride into town. “I believe Will was murdered and I'd like you to investigate.”

  “What you’ve already told me sounds suspicious enough for me to do some digging around, even if it wasn't required by law. I don't think Will would shoot himself.” He leaned back in his chair, its front legs off the floor, leveled his gaze on Jamey and, with the calm of an experienced investigator, he asked, “Mind tellin' me why the rushed nuptials?”

  Jamey recognized the technique. He'd seen his brother-in-law, Ian, a lawyer and former Texas Ranger, use it many times when dealing with problems on their cattle drives. He hesitated sharing more until he knew who he could trust, until he knew who might or might not be in Cleve Moran's pocket.

  “That’s between my wife and me. We have an agreement.”

  “Now, you see, that just makes me more than a little suspicious. I don't know you, Mr. O'Donnell.” The legs of his chair bumped the floor as he righted it to its original position. “Will Rivers was a good friend of mine and, up here in this neck of the woods, we look out for our own.”

  “It doesn't seem so in this case.”

  “Care to explain that remark?”

  Jamey took the letter from Will out of his pocket and handed it to the marshal. “I received this about a month ago. When I got here day before yesterday, he was dead.”

  The marshal read the letter and then folded and returned it. “I knew something was going on with him but tried not to pry. A man's got a right to his privacy.”

  “True.” Jamey stood. “Does that thought extend to me as well?”

  “I'd say so until I find out different. You understand I'll be doing some checking on you?”

  “I wouldn't think much of ye if ye didn't.” Jamey rested his hand beneath Angel's elbow when she joined him. “We'll be talking to ye, Marshal.”

  “Yep. As soon as Doc gets into town from his rounds, we'll head out to your place so he can make his official report.”

  Jamey felt the marshal's eyes on them as they crossed the street for the bank. He'd gotten a good first impression about Jase Handley. His instincts told him the man truly cared about his friends and the law, and his instincts were rarely that far off.

  Just like his feelings about Cleve Moran. The scoundrel needed watching. Jamey didn't trust that one as far as he could throw him.

  ***

  The banker they needed to talk to had gone home for lunch and wouldn't be in for an hour. So when Jamey had suggested they go on over to the General Store, Angel had jumped at the chance to take in the colorful sights. She hadn't been here in a long time to shop and the thought of being able to purchase anything at all made her giddy. She'd placed several items in the basket she carried and was eyeing a particular bolt of fabric when Mr. Krutchmeyer, the owner, came up beside her.

  “I'm sorry Mrs. Rivers, but I can't sell to you today.”

  “But I—”

  “No, not today or any other day until you pay your outstanding balance.” His glance darted to his wife who stood behind the cash register.

  Two women an aisle over whipped around and Angel thought she might incinerate on the spot, such was the heat from her embarrassment. One of the women was Mr. Krutchmeyer's spinster sister-in-law and the other a railroad official's wife, very prominent in town circles with a tongue that could shred a leather barber's strap.

  Jamey stood at the back counter chatting up Mrs. Krutchmeyer. He was supposed to be opening an account, but the way she blushed and tittered at their conversation told Angel he was easily charming the skin off the woman who had the personality of a disgruntled rattlesnake.

  “I told your husband his last trip in, Mrs. Rivers,” the store keeper continued. “There's no more credit.”

  “I'm sorry, I didn't know we owed you money. As soon as I can, I'll settle the accounts.” She noticed again his glance toward his wife as he took the basket from her. The woman crossed her arms beneath her small bosoms and pursed her lips like she'd eaten a persimmon.

  Angel hadn't come into the store often while married to Will. Not that he'd meant to be mean or controlling, but he knew Mrs. Krutchmeyer disliked her for marrying Will instead of him tying the knot with her spinster sister. Also, he'd said they didn't have much money and he didn't want her to feel bad because she couldn't buy any of the items or other fancy geegaws displayed in the windows or on the shelves. Someday, he’d promised, he'd get her lots of pretty things.

  Now she understood his real reason for keeping her away from town and this knowledge raised the question of what else he'd kept from her. What other things had he been covering up? She supposed he'd been too embarrassed to tell her, but she'd been stupid and naïve not to ask questions. Her heart raced at what awaited them at the bank.

  When Mr. Krutchmeyer turned back to her, his eyes were kind and apologetic. Too little, too late, Angel thought, as she turned and walked toward the door.

  “Angel, wait.”

  She stopped, frozen to the floor, unsure if she'd be able to face those who were waiting to ridicule her.

  Jamey walked up behind her, bracketing her upper arms with his hands. “Now, where'd ye be goin', Colleen? Ye've not yet finished yer shoppin’.”

  Quietly, close to a whisper, she told him, “Will has a large debt, and I can't shop here until his accounts are paid off.”

  “Have ye forgotten?” he said while turning her to face him. “Ye're married to me now. Ye can have anything ye need or want.”

  “But, I can't.”

  He took her by the elbow, leading her to th
e cash register and the rattler waiting to strike.

  “Mrs. Krutchmeyer, my wife, Mrs. O'Donnell, will be purchasing supplies for our trip home this afternoon.” He gave the woman a wide smile and a wink. “Any help ye can give her is appreciated. Oh, and if ye would, add that bolt of garnet colored fabric she had her eye on. I like to see her smile.”

  The woman had such a strangled look, Angel thought she might have a stroke but she walked over and retrieved the material anyway. When she'd filled the basket and ordered her list of staples, Mrs. Krutchmeyer wrapped the smaller items while Jamey and Mr. Krutchmeyer loaded the wagon.

  With the look of the devil's mistress, the woman threatened quietly, “Don't think just because you've wangled marriage to another unsuspecting man that your status in this town has been raised one iota. You'll never be more than—”

  “Are ye ready, Mrs. O'Donnell?” Jamey came to Angel's side and picked up her purchases. “We should be headin’ over to the bank.”

  Angel shuddered at the venom coated words uttered by the mean-spirited woman, but had to admit she rather enjoyed seeing the persimmon pucker again. Linking her arm through his, she managed a smile. “Why, yes, Mr. O'Donnell, I am.”

  When they crossed the street and entered the bank, Angel wanted to back out the door and wait in the wagon no matter the frigid temperature or visit her friend, Calliope Thorne. Like her father, she'd never trusted bankers. First, the size of the buildings intimidated her and second, she'd never had enough money to put in one anyway.

  Jamey must've read her thoughts for he placed his arm around her waist and held her fast. “Stay with me, love. We'll be done soon enough.”

  The banker came from behind his desk to greet them, hand extended.

  “Beatty Higgins, bank president. Welcome, Mr. . . .”

  “O'Donnell.”

  “Mrs. Rivers, the marshal just told me the news as I was headed back to the office. I'm real sorry to hear about Will.”

  Angel didn't think he looked sorry at all, but she kept that to herself. “Thank you.”

  “How can I help you today, Mr. O'Donnell?”

  “I’ve recently moved here and I'd like to open an account.” He pulled the note from his pocket, unfolded it and handed it to Mr. Higgins. “I have a letter from the bank in Dallas.”

  Taking the correspondence, the banker said, “Come with me and I'll get you all set up.”

  After the paperwork was completed, the two men shook hands. Mr. Higgins pushed back his chair, Angel assumed to show them out the door, but her husband remained seated.

  “Is there something else I can do for you, Mr. O’Donnell?”

  “Yes, thank ye. It will be a few days before we have the official paperwork, but Mrs. Rivers and I were married yesterday at her ranch.”

  “I don’t see how I can help you with that.”

  “Not with that, but I wanted to let you know we’ll be needing to get the deed to her land after the doctor makes the death official.”

  Angel cringed when the beady-eyed man looked down his nose at her.

  “I’m sorry, but your husband removed the deed from his box a few months ago when he and Cleve—I mean, Mr. Moran—drew up their agreement.”

  “He and I were to meet here today to make arrangements to settle the debt owed on the Double R.”

  “Mr. Moran received a telegram this morning. He left on the early train.”

  “Did he say where he’s headed or when he’ll return?”

  “I believe he’s visiting family at his home in Chicago.”

  “I see.”

  Suddenly, what had started out as an adventurous, light-hearted day turned sour on Angel’s stomach. Running away might be cowardly, but that’s exactly what she wanted to do.

  Gripping the arms of her chair, she seethed with contempt at her dead husband and the situation he’d ultimately put her in, and resentment at her new husband for unwittingly throwing her in the path of disdain. In his attempts to help her through her difficult situation, he was continually digging up secrets and telling her what to do. For her entire life, she’d been at someone else’s mercy. That ended today.

  Angel stood, back straight, head high, packages in hand and walked out of the bank. Remembering her late father’s reprimands and Helmut’s head-shaking when she’d shown any signs of independence gave her pause because she didn’t have a plan. But that was all right. Starting now, she was taking control of her own life.

  ***

  Jamey climbed into the wagon beside Angel. He didn't know what, but something happened at the bank just as it had at Krutchmeyer's General Store. Whatever that something had been was subtle, though. He'd noticed the looks Angel had received and, once again, found the back-biting and empty formalities of living in a town disgusting. His family had been the recipient of such looks in Ireland before they left for America.

  From the time he'd arrived here two days ago, there'd been a shift in her demeanor and attitude. He found he liked this Angel much more than the subdued, contrite woman he'd witnessed before. This Angel, without saying a word, appeared stronger, braver, and more in control. Obviously he didn't know what had happened to bring on the change in her but, depending on how forthcoming she might be, he intended to find out why the people in this town shunned her.

  He picked up the reins and slapped them against the horses' rumps. That, he decided, could wait a couple of days. There were preparations to make for this evening and tomorrow. It was, after all, Christmas.

  Chapter Six

  Jamey set the wood crates, loaded with household supplies, on the porch and then took the horses and wagon to the barn. Once they'd been fed and watered, he carried the provisions into the main room of the cabin and set them on the floor.

  Angel was already busy putting away the contents of the smaller packages she'd taken in ahead of him. She got right to emptying the crates, ignoring him as if he wasn't in the county, much less in the same room. She hadn't spoken since they'd left the bank and it appeared she didn't care to entertain any conversation in the near future.

  “After I build the fire, can I put the rest of the supplies away for ye?”

  “No.” She stopped and faced him. “Why would you offer to do that?”

  “I used to do that for my ma and sister.” In spite of her new found independent streak, Jamey stood his ground. “I thought if ye'd show me where ye like to put things then the next trip I'd be more help.”

  “You've been enough help today. I can do this myself.”

  He stood there, frowning, as she went about her business. She'd effectively shut him down with a look and a few words. But then his frown changed to a grin. He'd been put in his place a few times before but usually by burly miners or drovers. She'd soon find it would take more than a female with a pretty face and a stubborn streak wider than the Chisolm Trail to scare him off. He had a sister. He could return stubborn in spades.

  Buttoning up his coat, he stomped out the door and off the porch into the heavy north wind. Snow had started to fall and he wanted to check around the cabin before dark to make sure all was secure. The almanac in the feed store predicted the coldest temperatures on record for the next few days.

  He snooped around the barn to see what might be stored out of sight. His search revealed tools and various farming implements, along with a trunk. When he opened the lid, he found household linens and trinkets. Tucked into one corner were assorted decorations, including glass balls, reminding him again that today was Christmas Eve.

  Suddenly, he had an idea. The task would be a bit of work, but shouldn't take too long. He set the items by the barn door, grabbed a saw, saddled Rusty and rode out. If his plan worked like he hoped, he'd soon be back at the cabin with a surprise for his new bride.

  ***

  Angel dropped into the nearest chair after he closed the door resting her head in the crook of her arm. Finally, she had time to think about the day and the events as they'd unfolded.

  Finding out about Will'
s lies and deceit over the last few months had dealt her a blow. Other than him telling her he needed a companion to help him work on his ranch, had he ever been truthful with her? From the day they’d been introduced by their friend, Calliope Thorne, she'd known theirs would be a marriage of convenience, but she'd hoped they would come to love each other in time. He was older than she, decidedly younger than Helmut and her father, but fifteen years was still a gap. Apparently, what had started out as kindness and concern had changed with his financial situation.

  The idea occurred to her that Will had not only given over the deed for his land to Moran, but he'd handed her over as well. He'd turned over all his possessions to his enemy. In the end, she'd been nothing more than property to Will Rivers.

  As devastating as that revelation was, the fact remained she found herself in the same situation. For the third time she'd been forced into a position to secure her survival, married to a man not of her choosing. Oh how she wished she’d been able to see Calliope, while she’d been in town. Angel might have cried if there'd been any tears left. Fortunately, she was cried out.

  Unbidden, her childhood friend, Cissie, popped into her mind. Angel remembered their long talks out behind their houses. They'd lie on blankets at night, looking up at the stars and planning their lives. Such big dreams they’d had between the two of them. They were each going to marry, have five children, and live next door to one other always. Cissie had married a boy down the street, Brandt Howard, and had one child with another on the way according to her last letter.

  And what did she have? Nothing. No home. No family. No place to go. What she had, on the surface, looked to be a big, fat jumbled mess. Despair pulled at her like children tugging on a rag doll. Oh how she wished Cissie lived closer instead of several states away.

  Abruptly, Cissie's voice pushed its way into her thoughts. Angel, what is wrong with you? Stop feeling sorry for yourself and take control of your own destiny. You are smart and strong and have the power to salvage your situation. Remember what my mama used to say. Formulate the plan and then implement the plan.