JP ran his hand around his neck and rolled his head from side to side finally leaning against the smooth leather of his chair back. Federal marshals didn’t usually investigate murders. Not unless the victim was well connected in government circles. The gold, the robbery, and the murder were more than likely connected. That’s what had JP worried. Since no message requesting the presence of such a lawman had been sent, a federal marshal visiting a small town like Bittersweep was puzzling and alarming.
He jerked upright. Of course, the gold belonged to the government, not a private entity. That’s what the marshal was after. The bank had stored the Fort Clark payroll for one single day—the day of the robbery.
The upcoming interview milled around in his mind all through the day, while he brought his records up to date, when he had dinner, and even when he entered his bedroom.
Elizabeth greeted him with a smile. Nothing else entered his mind, only his wife in her flimsy robe, delicate and alluring, trailing behind her as she approached the bed. Nothing else intruded. Nothing else mattered, until the morning when he crawled out of bed.
Later that afternoon, the quiet sound of the door swinging open barely registered, but the shadow crawling along the floor accompanied by the fragrance of roses brought JP to attention. When he glanced up, Elizabeth stood in front of his desk with a polite smile curving her lips. Her eyes held a question and dueled with his.
“You have a visitor.” She looked down and moved a paperweight from the edge of the desk before glancing at him again. “The sheriff is here along with two other men. I’ve seen the rough looking one about town.” She clasped her hands together and waited.
“The sheriff?” Relief eased the knot in JP’s stomach. With the sheriff’s return, Chester could no longer hover over Elizabeth with a threat of arrest. He’d be forced to give up his absurd notion she’d killed Franklin simply because she found the body. A proper investigation could begin. “I thought he was still in a bad way.”
“He appears hale and hearty to me. But why is he here? What’s this about?”
“I don’t know.” JP grinned. “If I had time, I kiss that look of displeasure off of your face. You look like you think I’ve done something wrong. I haven’t.”
He grew serious, his voice stern. “You should make yourself scarce until after I meet with the sheriff. I don’t want to stir up matters best left undisturbed until the killing is straightened out.”
She glared at him. “I haven’t killed anyone.” She dabbed at the corner of her eyes as if brushing away a tear.
JP jumped up and came around the desk gathering her in his arms. “Please don’t cry. You know I was only joshing you. I know you didn’t kill Franklin. You couldn’t.”
She lifted her head and stepped away with a sniff. “I’ll have Ham show the men to your office. But I want a full report on the goings-on after those men leave.” With a swish of her skirt, she whirled around and left the room, her spine straight, and her shoulders thrown back.
He allowed his lips to curl in amusement. She’d want his guts for garters if he didn’t come through with an explanation. He only hoped he’d have some innocuous information he could relate.
Moments later, he heard the shuffle of boots, heavy, loud in the hall outside his office. Ham entered with the sheriff, and two others. JP pushed his chair back and stood extending his hand to the sheriff. “Sheriff, I’m glad to see you’ve recovered.” He nodded to the other men.
“It was all a hoax. I’ll explain in a minute.” The sheriff introduced the other men. “JP, this is Marshal Duncan.”
JP extended his hand. “Welcome, Marshal.” He turned to the buckskin clad stranger.
The sheriff stepped forward. “This is Horace Acemund, but he answers to Ace. He’s a Texas Ranger.”
JP shook hands with the ranger, guarding his expression to keep his surprise hidden. “You men please take a seat.”
The marshal and the ranger settled in chairs in front of the desk. The sheriff collected a seat from the corner and joined the others. While the men were getting situated, JP studied each man in turn. The marshal, compact, sturdy, with a complexion riddled with lines across his forehead and between his brows, presented a no-nonsense individual ready for action at the drop of the hat. JP guessed the man was in his late forties or early fifties at the oldest, gray hair at his temples and a receding hairline added to his look of years. His light brown eyes held the wisdom of experience, sharp, searching, dependable even with his sloppy penmanship.
JP had known Sheriff Ben McCall for years, physically fit, average height, graying dark hair, and with a sharp, lazy appearing blue gaze full of intelligence. No surprise there. JP was glad to have him back in charge.
He agreed with Elizabeth. The buckskin clad Texas Ranger did look tough, whipcord muscles, straight black hair touching his shoulders, and dark, bottomless eyes that pierced to the soul. The ranger leaned back in his chair crossing one ankle over his other knee, his gaze alert, probing.
JP eased back in his seat, his elbows resting on the chair arms with his fingers laced together across his stomach. “How can I help you?”
In a deep voice, the marshal drawled, “To come right to the point, we need your help. You know this country. Hell, you practically run the place, head of the city council, chairman of the schoolboard, among other things.”
JP held his expression as blank as possible, not giving anything away. “What can I do to help you?”
The sheriff rubbed his chin. “We’ve come to believe the gold never left this area. Chester wouldn’t be much threat to the culprits so I sent word I was injured to throw the thieves off balance. Some locals are in on this robbery. Has to be.”
The ranger spoke up. “In the tavern at Fort Clark, I got wind of something big going down. A couple of lowlife bums got plum excited after talking to a stranger passing through. I followed those two all the way to Bittersweep. They stopped here so I figured this was the place. Seems I was right. A lost gold shipment in a bank robbery is a big deal.”
The sheriff leaned forward. “We caught up with the crooks. The dumb owl-hoots thought to outsmart me and the marshal’s office. The blamed idiots were riding around with saddlebags full of loot.” He shook his head. “Not the gold. Not a single coin. I suppose what showed up was a payoff to the help.”
The marshal rubbed his mouth, pushed out a breath and said, “We must make a search within a ten-mile radius of the bank. We need your knowledge and some of your most trusted men to help in the search. Can you think of any convenient hiding places for such a stash?”
Alert now, filled with tension, JP straightened in his chair. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. I know where the gold is hidden. I found the hiding place a few days back.”
“What?” Staring with his eyes wide, the sheriff’s voice shrilled. He moved to the edge of his chair.
“A lot has happened since you left in search of the crooks. Franklin Plunkett, the bank clerk, has been murdered.”
“Murdered you say?” The sheriff shuffled his feet as if to rise and chase after the killer.
“Yes. He was shot, his head bashed in too. His room ransacked.” JP set his lips in an uncompromising line. Everything he intended to say must steer suspicion away from Elizabeth. “My wife’s room at the boardinghouse was ripped apart as well.”
“You’re married? I take it you didn’t marry Valeria,” the sheriff said, surprise in his tone.
“No, I married the schoolteacher, Elizabeth Clarke.”
“I thought her name was Campbell.”
In a testy tone, JP offered, “It’s Honeycutt now. The rest of the story is long, hard, and not necessary at this moment.” He lifted his dark lashes and stared, intent, a warning not to probe further.
The marshal returned JP’s regard with a warning of his own, no n
onsense, come clean. “Where is the gold?”
JP raised his hand. “Hold your horses. I’m getting to that. I discovered Franklin was a federal bank examiner. He had records of banking fraud and embezzlement in his ledger. That’s what the killer was after: the ledger.”
“What does that have to do with the gold?” Ace drawled.
JP met Ace’s regard with a searching gaze of his own. “In his position, Franklin knew the gold shipment was due at the bank, when, where, and how long it would remain in the vault. I think the intruders were after Franklin’s ledger for that reason.”
The marshal frowned. “So you think the ledger had a part to play in the killing, the robbery, or maybe both?”
“It seems reasonable. Maybe he was in on the robbery. The planning at least.” JP leaned forward, both elbows resting on his desk. “The evening of the robbery, we were on the trail of the crooks in a matter of an hour. That is, if Chester beat it straight out to the ranch to tell us of the robbery.” JP shrugged. “Would the deputy make haste or quake in his boots for a while? Either way, the gold never made it more than a few miles out of town.”
The sheriff glanced at the floor. “The robbery was well thought out. Rustlers mixed with the robbers threw us off the trail. We followed the rustlers and the crooks with the bank loot while the other thieves hid the gold.” He cut his eyes back at JP. “So where is it?”
“You remember the burned-out Clarke place. That’s the one.”
“Why that place? After the yellow fever epidemic fifteen years back, there’s derelict buildings aplenty. Abandoned houses, barns left to ruin, outhouses, smokehouses for curing meat, along with several dried-up wells.” The sheriff leaned his elbows on the chair arms and raised his brows. “There’s talk ’bout a ghost riding a yella horse too.” He laughed under his breath. “Most folks shy away from there.”
JP edged forward, forcing reasoning tones into his voice, smooth and convincing. “Making it safer to hide the gold, and—wouldn’t you know it?—my wife found the treasure. At least, pointed us in the right direction. Elizabeth was a Clarke. She remembered the root cellar and where to find it. My brothers and I discovered the gold.”
“Well,” the sheriff murmured, “I swan, if that don’t beat all. Everything tidy and neat.” He turned to the marshal. “You got your gold back.”
JP met the marshal’s hard stare. “You want the gold or do you want the thief as well?”
The marshal moved forward in his chair. “We’re wanting the crook too. I had a plan to look for the gold, then set a trap. Since the gold has been found, we’re passed the searching part.”
“Let’s hear the rest of it,” the sheriff drawled, relaxed back in his seat.
“If the thief hears rumors we suspect the gold never left the area, he’d be anxious to move the loot. We could make a show of it. Start to search a few hiding places and such. Let rumors fly far and wide with a warning to stay out of the way on penalty of arrest. On the quiet, we would set up a rotating watch at the Clarke place. Then we wait until the culprit shows.”
“If he sends hired thugs to do his bidding,” the ranger said, “I expect we could persuade one to talk. We’d have him singing like a bird in a few minutes.”
JP nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”
The marshal raised his chin, his expression deeply determined. “The government don’t take kindly to being robbed, but everything has to be above board.” He rubbed his hands down his thighs and stood. “We need to coordinate. I’ll make a rotation schedule. Don’t do anything unless you let the sheriff or me know first. I don’t want any of you in danger. Understand?”
JP fought to keep the grin off his face and held up his hand in agreement. “Absolutely.”
“I’m putting up at the Silver Slipper in town. Easy to reach.”
JP shook hands with the men. “Keep in touch.”
He watched the men exit the office, knowing Elizabeth would appear in less than a heartbeat. At that instant, she peered around the door. “I saw Ham show the men out. What happened?”
“Take a seat.” He waited until she settled in the chair. Still, he waited and moved the letter on his desk. He grinned when Elizabeth squirmed and glared at him. He could see impatience practically shooting out her ears.
“Let’s give Ham a second. He’ll show up in a minute, demanding answers.”
As if on cue, Ham strode into the office and plopped in a chair. “Now, give.”
“Is Hudson still standing guard over the gold?”
Ham grinned. “Yep. You sent him to relieve Bob. He won’t be back yet.”
“Very well. But he’ll be up in arms at being left out.”
Ham shrugged. “So he’ll be roaring ’round in a rage.” He chortled. “Most of his mad will be directed at me. Especially if I shove a stick in the fire. And I will be stirring the flames. Now, what did that group want?”
“The crooks were caught, but no gold. All three agents are after the gold and the guilty party.” JP smiled at Elizabeth, a charming attempt at persuasion. “Would you please order coffee?”
Elizabeth rose. “Don’t talk things over with Ham and leave me out. I want to know everything. I’ll be back.”
JP grinned. “A nosey little thing, isn’t she? I don’t want her involved in this in any form if I can help it. The deputy won’t be satisfied until he claps a warm body in jail. He doesn’t care if that person is innocent or not as long as he has an arrest to brag about.”
“He’s a blockhead, but dangerous for all that,” Ham cautioned. “Even with the sheriff back in town, Chester’s pride will force him to act.”
“That’s true, but we have more to worry about. The lawmen suggested we set a trap for the brains behind the robbery. Let everyone know we are searching in the hopes the crook will rush to protect the gold.”
“A trap. Sound reasonable.” Ham chuckled. “I can see how Elizabeth might be in the way.”
JP leaned his elbows on the desk and knotted his fingers together. “We should hear from the marshal soon. It can’t come quick enough for me. I want this over and life to return to normal.”
“Ha, fat chance.”
Chapter 32
Disheartened, annoyed, and fed up with her husband, Elizabeth watched the men ride away. Not that she actually wanted to hide in the woods keeping watch for the crook to arrive—mosquitoes and bugs—no thanks. Still, she hated being barred from the activity. It wasn’t fair or right. She scuffed her shoe in the grass and stared after the retreating backs of the men. In a huff, she twitched her skirt with both hands. If Mr. Joseph Paul Honeycutt thought she would quietly go back into the house and sew a fine seam while she waited his return, he was sadly mistaken.
Amy was at school, so Elizabeth couldn’t blame her restlessness on the young girl. There were chores aplenty, but she didn’t intend to return to work, not at this moment. She glanced around at the noise and stirring dust created by an approaching buggy.
The very man JP had pegged as the culprit was on her doorstep, not off trying to retrieve the gold. Rupert Landow in his shiny, black gig with the yellow wheels, pulled to a stop on the cobbled stable yard. Unease washed over her.
Was he a crook as JP supposed or innocent of wrongdoing as she had claimed? Doubt shook her and her ability to judge character. Did a villain appear innocent until proven guilty? Fear, full blown, leapt inside her. She fought to keep her voice level and wobble-free. “Rupert, this is a surprise.”
He leisurely climbed out of his gig, his expression mocking. “I’m sure of that. Is JP about?”
Not a single stablehand or a housemaid out for a walk in sight. Blast. She shook her head. “I’m afraid he’s out.”
Rupert chortled. “Of course he’s out. I watched him leave, he and his hounds. Those brothers of his are worse than a couple
of lapdogs.”
Observing him closely, she cringed at the look in his eyes, wildly desperate, and frantic. Her earlier unease bubbled into sheer panic.
He palmed his gun and pointed it at her. “Now, if you would be so obliging as to climb aboard, we’ll be on our way.”
She froze in place, her throat closing in terror. It seems JP had been right. Rupert was a rogue, perhaps even the murderer. With a shivering breath, she stammered, “Wh-Where?”
He smiled, wolfish, cold, and with a hint of gloating on his lips. “Why to meet up with your beloved husband of course.”
“Are you crazy?” The words erupted before she considered the consequences of stroking his anger. Not wise.
Waving the tip of the pistol at her, he glared, his frown fierce. “I want what’s mine. I wonder if your husband is willing to trade my gold for you. We shall soon see.” He motioned with his weapon. “Now, get in, or do you need assistance?”
Catching hold of the seat and the iron rail in front of the buggy, she attempted to heave herself inside. When she touched the cold metal, her hand begun to shake, and her limbs trembled so badly, she had trouble completing the task. She scooted into the far corner of the seat and knotted her fingers together in her lap. How could she escape or warn JP?
Rupert will shoot JP in a heartbeat if the sheriff doesn’t hand over the gold.
~ ~ ~
The leather saddle squeaked under JP’s full weight when he leaned into the stirrup to dismount. Glancing down at the bitterweed under his boots, he inhaled the slightly unpleasant odor of the plants. When he tied his horse well out of sight, he couldn’t avoid observing the burned-out shell of the Clarke house. His stomach clenched at the memories, sad memories, haunting memories of lifting Elizabeth and her baby sister into the wagon before the house was set ablaze.
Bittersweep Page 24
