by Carol Finch
She flew down the steps and breezed out the door to take a head count of the cowhands in charge of the chores at headquarters. Everyone who was supposed to be on the premises appeared to be working. As for the hired hands in charge of riding fences and checking herds, Adrianna couldn’t say if they were on duty. But she was going to ride around the pastures to make certain her cowboys were doing what they were supposed to be doing.
Furthermore, she wasn’t going to voice any suspicions to anyone except Cahill because she wasn’t sure whom she could trust. Her disgruntled ex-foreman was only goodness knew where. Even her new foreman wasn’t exempt from suspicion, she mused as she strode off swiftly to retrieve Buckshot. Rocky Rhodes was familiar with her ranch and with the 4C, she reminded herself warily. He had access to both places and might be making extra money for himself.
Rocky seemed to be an honest man but Adrianna had encountered several charlatans in her time. She wasn’t looking past the possible motives of anyone in her quest to ferret out the rustlers, arsonists and murderers.
“Where ya headed, Miz McKnight?”
Speak of the devil, Adrianna thought when she heard Rocky’s drawling voice behind her. She pasted on a pleasant smile, then pivoted to face the blond-haired, blue-eyed foreman. “I’m going to ride out and check the herds.”
“Want some company?”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be fine.” She tossed him a casual smile that concealed her wary suspicion.
“Sure was a good party you hosted for Rosa and Lucas.” He glanced toward the charred remains of her new house addition. “Too bad that fire spoiled the evening.”
Adrianna tried to recall if she had seen Rocky in town before he had showed up to help douse the fire. To be honest, she had been so busy with party arrangements and meeting new acquaintances that she couldn’t recall seeing Rocky or any other cowhands from her ranch. She didn’t know who’d had the night off and who had remained behind.
She wondered if she was suffering paranoia, wondered if she could trust anyone but Cahill and her adopted family. With all that was going on, she was mistrustful of everyone because she didn’t know who was out to get her and Cahill—and why.
Adrianna rode off to see if other cattle had been corralled in the box canyon where she and Rock had found part of the stolen herd.
Several hours later, Adrianna returned to 4C, disappointed that her extended ride had turned up nothing. She still didn’t know who on her ranch favored the horse she had commandeered from Quin’s bunkhouse. But she was going to keep a watchful eye, she vowed. That horse had been out of place. Rocky could have ridden over to visit his former coworkers at 4C, she supposed, but she wasn’t going to fire out questions to make hired hands cautious until she acquired more facts.
Nevertheless, she had the niggling feeling something was going on behind the scenes at both ranches. She would be discreet, but she was going to track down the rustlers, arsonists and murderers—somehow or other.
Leaving Buckshot for Skeeter Gregory, Quin’s right-hand man, to unsaddle, she headed for the house. The scent of Elda’s delicious meal met her at the front door, reminding her that she had skipped lunch. She was on her way to the kitchen when Butler flagged her down and directed her into Quin’s office.
“Is he back yet?” she asked hopefully. He hadn’t been gone a full day and she missed him terribly.
Butler shook his head. “No, but Marshal Hobbs was here earlier. He wanted to see the note Quin received from the supposed informant.”
“Did Hobbs take it with him as evidence?”
“No, because I didn’t give it to him.” Butler pulled the missive from the pocket of his vest.
Adrianna frowned, bemused. “Why not?”
“Because this is the only conclusive evidence we have that Cahill was lured to Phantom Springs,” he replied. “We are keeping it, in case we have to consult a lawyer to defend Cahill in court.”
Adrianna walked over to give Butler a hug. “You are brilliant, Hiram. Thank you.”
He hugged her back. “You do not pay me to be stupid…but I have to ask if you’d prefer to be rid of Cahill.”
She reared back in his arms to meet his searching hazel-eyed gaze. She had the inescapable feeling Butler knew she had become intimate with Cahill. He was asking the silent question about whether Quin was like the annoying, unwanted suitors from her past.
Feeling awkward and embarrassed, she stared at the air over his left shoulder. “I like Cahill the way you like Beatrice,” she admitted quietly.
Butler nodded somberly. “I thought so. But you should know that if he hurts you, he will pay dearly.”
She chuckled. “Elda will poison his food?”
Butler grinned. “For starters. Then Bea will wallop him a few times with her broom and dustpan and I will doctor his financial ledgers to make him look corrupt. The scandal circulating now will be child’s play in comparison.”
“If he isn’t home by bedtime I’m barnstorming the marshal’s office first thing in the morning,” she insisted on the way to the dining room. “I’m taking that note as evidence but I won’t turn it over to Hobbs. Smoking gun aside, Cahill wouldn’t shoot a man in the back and I know it. I suspect one of the three men at the springs set him up. I will refuse to leave the office until Hobbs agrees with my conclusions.”
Butler snickered. “I pity the marshal. He’ll likely release Cahill, if only to get you out of his hair and stop you from barking in his ear, Addie K.”
“I’m counting on it,” Adrianna murmured before she sat down to Elda’s mouthwatering meal—and wondered what jailers served their prisoners for supper in Ca-Cross.
Early the next morning Adrianna rode into town with the note Quin had received. Her first stop was Rosa’s Boutique, which sat across the square from the marshal’s office. When she entered the shop, Rosa poked her silver-blond head around the corner of the sewing room. A concerned frown replaced her usual smile.
“Glad you’re here, Addie K. I’ve been worried about Quin.” She rushed forward to clasp Adrianna’s hands in her own. “I went to check on him twice yesterday but Marshal Hobbs had the place locked up tight while he was investigating. Rumors about Quin killing a man hired to start the fire at your house are flying all over town.”
“Blast it, people can be so gullible and foolish. Why are they so quick to believe the worst?” Adrianna muttered under her breath. “Whoever killed that man at Phantom Springs set up Quin. He received a message suggesting his parents’ deaths weren’t accidental.”
Rosa’s lavender-colored eyes nearly popped from their sockets. “What? You mean it was murder? Heavens!”
“We don’t know if the wreck resulted from a robbery gone bad or if the note Cahill received was an extortion attempt. The would-be informant was dead when Cahill arrived.”
“It does make you wonder, when it’s been two years since the incident,” Rosa said pensively.
“Personally, I think this is an attempt to swindle money from Cahill, same as the horses and cattle stolen from both our ranches. This time Quin received two knots on his head while trying to seek the truth. Plus, the extortion money was taken while Quin was unconscious.”
Rosa flung up her arms. “What the blazes is going on around here? Rumors are buzzing about Quin committing murder and about his sister raising her illegitimate child while working as a… Well, you know. Why would anyone want to drag the Cahill name through the mud?”
Adrianna shrugged. “I suppose for the same reason the Greers and McKnights were accused of all sorts of unethical corruption to explain our families’ business success.”
Rosa nodded, disgruntled. “Ah, yes, the backstabbers of the world spend more time slandering others who are more fortunate than devising ways to ensure their own prosperity.”
Adrianna glanced sideways to see a crowd gathering on the square. “Uh-oh, that doesn’t bode well for Quin.”
“Just what we need,” Rosa grumbled. “The drunken mob spout
ing threats of hanging the town founder.”
Adrianna swallowed hard at the disturbing prospect. “I need to talk to the marshal…now.”
“Do you need Lucas and me as character witnesses for Quin?” Rosa asked.
“Thanks, but I hope it won’t come to that.”
Adrianna spun on her heel, then jogged across the square. She veered around the crowd of scraggly-looking men from Wrong Side who were discussing when and where to lynch Cahill. She glanced at the cocky Preston Van Slyck, who was propped against the supporting beam of the bank, grinning from ear to ear.
Hmm, she thought suspiciously. I wonder who egged on the local riffraff to form a spiteful mob?
Adrianna couldn’t explain a connection between Preston and the unidentified dead man, but she knew Preston’s type. The banker’s son was ecstatic when others were miserable, especially if he felt he’d been wronged and wanted to enjoy spiteful revenge. If Leanna Cahill had rejected Preston, he would delight in getting even—every way possible.
Her thoughts scattered as she scurried across the boardwalk to reach the marshal’s pinewood office before the mob decided it was a grand day for a necktie party. She burst inside to see Hobbs sipping coffee. His booted feet were stacked on the corner of his scarred desk. Her gaze flew immediately to the open door leading to the cells. Quin craned his neck around the corner. He looked rather the worse for wear. There were dark circles under his eyes and strained lines bracketed his mouth.
Her temper boiled in nothing flat and she wheeled toward the marshal to slap down the missive on his desk. “Here’s proof enough that Cahill was lured to Phantom Springs and set up to take blame for the murder.”
Hobbs put his feet on the floor, then assessed the note. “It says nothing about being set up for murder,” he remarked caustically. “Oh, wait, there it is between the lines.”
When he tried to pick up the note, Adrianna snatched it away and tucked it in the pocket of her breeches. “This evidence will be in our lawyer’s possession for safe keeping. Now where is the note you supposedly received?” she countered in the same sarcastic tone he’d used on her.
His dark eyes glittered. “I don’t have to show you evidence. The judge will review it in court.”
Adrianna wanted to strangle the hard-nosed, by-the-book lawman who apparently didn’t believe in benefit of the doubt. She planted her hands on his desk and leaned down to get right in his face. “Did you find evidence of three other horses at the murder scene?” she demanded sharply.
“No,” he snapped at her. “Parts of that area are piles of rock and pebbles. I did find a horse I assume belonged to the dead man. I used it to cart the body to the undertaker.” He tried to stare her down, but she refused to be intimidated. “Now why don’t you run along, Miz McKnight. I need to write up my report.”
Adrianna glanced out the window to see the mob moving in the direction of the jail. She was angry and desperate. She needed Hobbs’s cooperation—and fast.
“There is no need to write a report because you don’t have the dead man’s murderer in custody,” she said through gritted teeth. “You saw the note we received and there are two witnesses to verify its existence as the reason Cahill went to the rendezvous site.”
When Hobbs glared at her, then opened his mouth to interject a comment, Adrianna slapped her hand against his desk to demand his full attention. “I know for a fact there were three riders that left Phantom Springs that night.”
“Damn it, Boston!” Quin snapped from the cell room. He bounded to his feet, then clamped his fists around the iron bars. “Leave it alone.”
Hobbs swiveled his dark head toward the cell. “You said you heard them when you came to.”
“We both heard them,” Quin insisted.
Adrianna realized Cahill must have felt the need to argue the point, in hopes of gaining his freedom and protecting her. That was fine, well and noble, but unnecessary.
“You were there?” Hobbs demanded intently.
“That’s right,” she declared. “I followed Cahill be cause I thought he was riding into a trap. Before I could move in closer, I heard the shot, then I saw three men ride off in three different directions.”
“And you can identify these men?” he questioned.
“No, she can’t,” Quin called out quickly.
“Have you discovered the name of the deceased?” she interrogated Hobbs, then she cast a wary glance at the approaching mob.
“Not yet.”
“I demand that you release Cahill immediately. You have no solid evidence. Even your so-called smoking gun could have been fired by the real killer or one of his cohorts to make Cahill look guilty…and you know it,” she said emphatically.
“I know nothing of the kind—”
“Then I’m hiring Lucas Burnett and Dog to investigate the scene of the crime,” Adrianna interrupted in a sharp tone. “I’m willing to bet a part-Comanche, ex–Texas Ranger and Dog can find a trail that indicates there were three riders, just as Cahill and I claim. What do you want to bet, Hobbs?”
The marshal muttered, shifted in his chair, then glanced out the window at the lurking crowd.
“Do you know how bad you’re going to look at election time when I support whoever runs for office against you? I will mention the evidence I know Burnett and Dog will find at the scene that you didn’t find. I’ll make you look bad, Hobbs. Count on it.”
Hobbs’s back went ramrod stiff. His brows swooped down over his slitted eyes. “Are you trying to blackmail me?” he challenged in a low growl.
“No. I’m hiring Burnett as my private investigator,” she assured him sternly. “Release Cahill, turn over his pistol and tell the mob the truth. There is no evidence that Cahill had anything to do with the murder. He arrived too late to stop the shooting and he is an injured victim of the crime.”
Quin craned his neck around the corner of the cell room to watch the glaring contest between Boston and Hobbs. She was magnificent, he mused. He admired her keen intelligence and fiery spirit—especially when it wasn’t directed at him.
To Quin’s everlasting relief, Hobbs blew out an agitated breath, then pushed away from his desk.
“All right, I’ll release Cahill and assure the mob there is no evidence of his involvement. But if you think that will quell the rumors floating around town, you are mistaken, Miz McKnight.”
“I’m still sending out Burnett to canvass the springs,” she vowed resolutely. “We’ll let you know our findings.” She looked down her pert nose and Quin silently applauded her ability to portray the power-wielding heiress from Boston. He wondered if she was mimicking her father—and decided it was likely. Quin had picked up several mannerisms from his father over the years and he used them when necessary.
Muttering under his breath, Hobbs stepped around the corner to unlock the cell and return the six-shooter. He moved aside to let Quin pass. “If anyone else turns up dead around here, don’t expect me to look the other way,” he warned. “The Cahills and McKnights are not above the law.”
“Truth and justice will prevail, Marshal,” Boston retorted, refusing to back down an inch. “A murderer is running loose. I trust you’ll do all within your power to find him. Or rather the three of them.” She stared pointedly at the pot on the stove. “You don’t have time to lounge around your office, drinking coffee and propping your feet on your desk.”
Hobbs glared at her, then stalked outside to confront the mob before they reached the boardwalk.
“I don’t think Hobbs likes me much,” Boston commented, then smiled wickedly. “I wonder why?”
“Can’t imagine. But don’t take it too hard. He doesn’t like me, either.” Quin dropped a kiss to her dewy lips. “Thanks for coming to my defense. That lumpy cot and drafty cell were getting old real quick.”
“I missed having you in bed last night,” she whispered.
Desire pummeled him below the belt buckle in the time it took to blink. Funny how quickly one word or thought aroused
him these days. No other woman had that ability. But then, there was only one Boston in the world.
And that was probably a good thing.
When Quin opened the door, all eyes darted past Hobbs to zero in on him and Boston. Quin maintained a deadpan expression long after Hobbs said, “Break it up, men. The real murderer is on the loose. If anybody can identify the dead man at the undertaker’s I want to know immediately.”
When Quin veered toward Preston, Boston tugged on his arm. “Don’t kill that arrogant bastard in front of the mob. I refuse to attend your necktie party today since I’m not dressed properly for the occasion.”
“Van Slyck deserves to have his head bashed in for what he said about my sister,” Quin grumbled resentfully.
“I agree, but people are watching every move you make. Don’t provide fodder for gossip.” She squeezed his hand, then veered away. “I’ll catch up with you later. I’m going to ask Rosa to fetch Lucas and Dog to investigate.”
When she strode off, Quin ambled toward Preston, who smiled tauntingly. “Oh, dear, you aren’t planning to kill me, too, are you, Cahill?”
“For what? Being a lecherous ass?” Quin replied, flashing an identical smile. “I didn’t think to ask the other night, Van Slyck. What were you doing in Deadwood, crawling to Leanna on your knees, begging her to give you another chance? She rejected you again, didn’t she? As I recall, it didn’t take her long the first time you came sniffing around to realize how worthless you are.”
To Quin’s amusement, Preston’s face turned purple with rage. The color looked good on him.
“Go to hell, Cahill,” he sneered viciously.
“Can’t. It’s your future address, Van Slyck. And why’d you kill that man on my property?”
“I didn’t. If I wanted to kill someone I’d start with you,” he snarled in a hateful tone.
