Wells Fargo.
He grasped the handle with his free hand as he shook out the second dying match. Unless he wanted to burn off his own fingertips, he had to drag the cases into the light.
Using his heels as leverage, he scooted backward to the mouth of the cave, towing the sturdy boxes behind him. The heavy boxes dug into the soft soil. His muscles strained at the awkward position. The pulled tendon in his back screamed in protest. An eternity later, he emerged into the sunlight, gasping. A fine layer of silt dusted his skin and clothing. Slumping onto his haunches, he took a moment to catch his breath. The scent of burning wood teased his nostrils.
A dark leaf fluttered onto his bent knee. He brushed it aside. The leaf crumbled into ash.
Jack leaped to his feat.
A haze of smoke billowed in the air above him.
His chest seized. Elizabeth. All thoughts of outlaws and loot fled his brain. Arms heaving, he sped up the hill. Flames licked the sky as he approached the house. Jo and the boys pumped water from the well into buckets.
Ely shattered the bedroom window with an ax. “She’s in there!” The burly man threw his coat over the cut-glass edges.
Jack added a fresh burst of speed. Ely didn’t need to say the name. Elizabeth was trapped in the house.
With a boost from Ely, Jack shimmied through the window. Smoke stung his eyes. His coat snagged on a shard of glass. Wrenching the material free, he jumped to the floor. Elizabeth appeared before him.
She gasped and coughed, burying her nose in the crook of her elbow. “I tried to leave through the kitchen, but it’s too hot.”
“Get away from the door.”
He yanked the wedding-ring quilt from the bed and threw it over the sill, adding a cushioning layer to Ely’s coat. “I’ll lower you down. Ely is waiting.”
Cold air rushed into the room, feeding the fire. Jack swept her into his arms. She scooted her feet over the ledge, her arms still wrapped around his shoulders. Her heavy petticoats crowded the narrow space. Jack shoved them through the opening. He slid his hands down her ribcage, then carefully lowered her into Ely’s waiting arms.
The trunk in the corner snagged his attention. Smoke drifted toward the ceiling, revealing clothes strewn over the floor. Elizabeth had obviously been digging through the contents. Jack knelt and lifted one of the items. Even through the growing haze he made out a man’s shirt.
She’d risked her life to rifle through her late-husband’s clothing? Why?
Especially when all the loot was safely hidden outside.
Chapter Fifteen
The front room was completely destroyed along with most of the kitchen. Only the pantry and the bedroom had survived serious damage, but heavy smoke saturated every surface. Most of the food stores were ruined, and the structure itself was unlivable.
Elizabeth crouched in the wagon, Rachel snug beside her, the space was lit by three warming lanterns. Both sets of barn doors had been flung open during the chaos. The McCoy boys huddled together on the far side of the corral while the three horses and the milk cow stomped and snorted in the midst of the commotion. Jo sulked on the bunkhouse porch.
Though the fire had mostly burned itself out, fiery embers still drifted into the sky. From Elizabeth’s vantage point at the back of the house, the structure appeared almost normal. If she circled around to the front, the true damage was revealed. The image of the porch roof caved into the parlor had burned into her brain.
The open barn doors framed the clearing formed by the three buildings. A scattered pile of her possessions littered the space. Ely and Jack had shattered the window in the bedroom and managed to save everything they could grab, including her, before suffocating smoke had overwhelmed them.
In a desperate attempt to save the outbuildings, Ely and Jack filled buckets from the well, splashing water onto the chunks of burning debris fluttering off the main house.
The sheltering branches of bare trees stood silhouetted against the setting sun, black and scorched. She tucked the blanket tighter around Rachel’s basket, then scooted off the back of the wagon.
Jack caught sight of her, dropped his bucket and crossed the clearing. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine.”
With a somber wave of remorse, she realized she spoke the truth. Nothing touched her anymore—not the blustery cold stinging her cheeks, not the blackened remains of her home, not even the blisters on her palm smarted any longer. She was more than fine, she was numb.
Jack lifted her hand. “How is your burn? Does it still hurt?”
Elizabeth shook her head. Feeling as if she were outside her own body, she studied the charred remains of her life and felt…nothing. “I used to wonder who planted all those trees. I think Hackberry Creek might be the only place in Kansas with grown trees. When I first saw the spread, I thought the house was real fine, but I fell in love with the trees first. I’ll miss them most when we move to town.”
“You can always rebuild.”
“We both know that will never happen.”
A beam cracked and popped, tumbling into what had once been her dining space with a shower of orange sparks.
Still nothing. Not even a twinge.
Jack cleared his throat.
“I’m not lying,” she defended herself. “After Jo’s accident, and then the incident with the wolves, well, I realized you were right. You and Mr. McCoy and Jo. I can’t stay out here alone any longer. Once spring comes, the work will be too much to manage on my own. Jo has her own family to attend. She can’t keep splitting her time between here and home and school. I wouldn’t feel comfortable hiring a stranger to help.”
Jack shrugged out of his coat and wrapped the heavy wool around her shoulders.
Shivering, she touched the collar. The pungent scent of wood smoke wafted from the saturated wool. “I thought Texas Rangers wore long slickers.”
“I bought the coat off a retired sailor earning his way toward a train ride to the desert. He said he was tired of winter, and never planned on seeing snow again. Told me this was the warmest coat he ever owned.”
The heavy wool sealed out the biting cold. Her fingers tingled as warm blood pumped through her veins. “He was right. I don’t think I’ve felt this warm since September.”
Ely shouldered his way into their conversation, his lips set in a hard line. “The boys claim they had nothing to do with this fire, but I don’t know if I believe them.”
Elizabeth nestled deeper into the safety of Jack’s residual warmth. “I’m certain the boys wouldn’t lie.”
“I can’t say for sure either way,” Mr. McCoy growled. “Usually the little one will tattle on his older brothers, but he’s keeping his mouth shut this time.” Ely ran a thumb and forefinger down the length of his beard. “I don’t know what to think.”
He swiveled around to face his daughter. Jo lounged forlornly against the bunkhouse railing. “Did you see anything?”
She shook her head. “We were only gone about twenty minutes.”
“In the barn?”
Jo flipped one heavy mahogany braid over her shoulder. “The bunkhouse,” she replied with a sullen glare at Elizabeth.
If Jack noticed Elizabeth’s sharp intake of breath, he didn’t say anything.
Instead, he drew his dark brows together, his hazel eyes inscrutable. “Looks like the fire started in the parlor near the woodpile. Those boys are full of energy, but I don’t see them doing anything this deliberately cruel. Must have been an accident.”
“I just clipped the wicks this morning.” Elizabeth brushed her cheek against the wool collar to brush aside a stray lock of hair. “None of the lamps were lit. I’m sure of it.”
Jack’s gaze skittered away. His hand crept over his pocket, as if h
e was unconsciously hiding something. Elizabeth’s scalp tingled.
“Maybe the lamp fell over after the fire started,” he replied. “There’s no way to tell for sure.”
“Why don’t you talk to them?” Ely jerked his head to where the boys had disappeared behind the barn. “I’ve already got them shaking in their boots. We’ll let that gun on your hip do the rest.”
Jack’s gloved hand slid farther down his thigh, protectively covering the weapon. “Bring the boys around.”
Elizabeth studied the Ranger. This was the first time she’d seen him don his weapon. There was a new determination in the set of his jaw.
Ely stomped across the clearing, his arms swinging resolutely. He returned moments later with the three boys trailing in his wake, their heads bent, their feet dragging in the soot-darkened snow.
“Boys,” Jack spoke, his voice firm but kind. “Tell me what happened here today.”
Caleb swallowed audibly. “I don’t know. Honest. We went back down to the creek bed to see if we could find any wolf bones in the bonfire. David heard a wolf bone in your pocket brings good luck.”
Ely guffawed and rolled his eyes. Jack shot him a quelling look.
“Maybe that other man did it,” Abraham squeaked.
Jack’s head snapped around to face the boy. “What man?”
The three adults and Jo closed the circle around the cowering boys.
Abraham’s frightened gaze darted around the group. “There was a rider earlier.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Ely demanded.
“He was just riding through. He headed toward the creek bed, so I figured you’d see him, too.”
Ely swung his gaze around the clearing as if the man might still be lurking in the shadows. “We didn’t see anyone.”
“Did you girls see a rider?” Jack snapped.
Elizabeth and Jo exchanged a guilty look. “We were in the bunkhouse trying to piece together the bank robberies,” Elizabeth began. She needed more time to gather her thoughts before she decided what to do with the information they’d discovered. “Is the bunkhouse safe? Rachel needs to be out of this cold.”
Jack gave a distracted nod. “The women will stay there tonight. Ely and I will patch up the roof for the short term. The boys will sleep in the barn. We’re burning daylight and it’s only getting colder.”
“There are more beds in the bunkhouse,” Elizabeth pointed out. “It makes more sense for the boys to stay in there.”
“The barn is too cold for Rachel, and Ely and I aren’t exactly equipped to take care of a baby.”
“Fine.” Elizabeth scowled at his withering expression. “Rachel, Jo and I will stay in the warm bunkhouse tonight.”
“Fine.” Jack started toward the barn.
Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, then fell into step beside him. “Thank you for coming after me.”
He swiveled on one heel, his expression thunderous. She sucked in a sharp breath.
“What’s so important in that trunk that you risked your life?” he demanded.
“The homestead documents. The deed to the house.”
His rigid shoulders deflated. He rubbed a weary hand across his eyes. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. I just thought…nothing. Never mind.”
He stomped away, leaving Elizabeth dumbfounded, and more alone than she’d ever felt in her whole life.
* * *
Jack ached to comfort Elizabeth, but with night rapidly descending, he worried they’d lose any chance of discovering more clues to the source of the fire. He didn’t have time to ease the betrayal he’d seen in her eyes. The hurt caused by his harsh words. Realizing how close he’d come to losing her had unleashed a raging fury that hadn’t yet dissipated.
Jack eyed the ragtag bunch of McCoys milling around the clearing. He faced Ely. “Do you have room at your place for the animals?”
“Some.”
“Enough for the milk cow and the chickens?”
“Should be.”
“Excellent.” Jack glanced at Elizabeth to see how she was taking the news. She held Rachel, gently rocking the sleeping infant. The wind whipped at her hair, tugging blond tendrils loose from the tight bun at the nape of her neck. Her detached gaze speared him like a lance.
He envisioned the woman in Texas after the Comanche raid, setting the table for her slaughtered family, wearing the same dulled expression. His throat tightened. A body could only take so much.
“Okay, then,” he continued, yanking his muddled thoughts back to the present. “We’re losing daylight. I’m taking Abraham to check for prints before this wind destroys any evidence of the boys’ story. The rest of you can move Mrs. Cole’s belongings into the barn.”
He chanced another glance at Elizabeth, but she appeared oblivious. Numb. His heart went out to her. Jack stepped forward, drawn by a force more powerful than his own good sense. He knew what he wanted: he wanted her to trust him.
Abraham jumped ahead of him, blocking his way.
“Over here,” the boy pointed excitedly into the distance. “Come on.”
Jack tore his gaze away from Elizabeth. He’d had his suspicions for days, but he’d done nothing. Her husband was the real outlaw, and he finally had the proof. Jack also had a suspicion someone else knew about the hidden money. If he’d faced the truth sooner, none of this would have happened.
And he still didn’t know what Elizabeth was hiding. Was it her suspicions, or her involvement?
“C’mon,” Abraham urged him forward.
He and the boy traced a path around the side of the house. Away from the distraction of Elizabeth and the fire, he realized his feet had turned to blocks of ice. He recalled the wistful look in her eyes as she’d nestled into his coat for comfort. He understood how she felt. He sometimes wondered if he’d ever be warm again.
After twenty minutes of fruitless searching, he and Abraham stumbled over the barest hint of animal prints in the drifting snow.
The boy shouted, jumping up and down at the proof of his innocence. The edges of the prints were ill-defined, but the tracks appeared to be from a large animal. A horse. They followed the spotty trail to the creek bed where the tracks veered left.
As if the rider had deliberately avoided Ely and Jack as they worked.
Jack circled the clearing in ever-widening arcs. The incessant wind howled through his brain, muddling his thoughts. His lips grew numb with cold. He kept picturing Elizabeth’s haunted expression, the white cotton glove in Ely’s pocket, the sun setting over the Texas sky. The widow had avoided the sheriff’s involvement on more than one occasion. How much did she suspect? Why wasn’t she willing to trust him?
He was about to declare the source of the tracks inconclusive when a divot in the snow snagged his attention. He crouched. The charred remains of a cigarette had melted into the ice. A check of the paper wrapping and a slight whiff indicated the Durham brand.
Digging into his pocket, Jack retrieved the curious item he’d discovered in the parlor. Side by side, the Durham cigarette he’d found in the house was an exact match for the one he’d just retrieved from the snow.
The animal tracks were definitely from a horse. And the man riding that animal had mostly likely started the fire. Jack searched the horizon. There weren’t too many places to hide along the desolate prairie. A rider might escape detection by riding down the creek bed, away from him and Ely. Not exactly the easiest path.
“Abraham,” Jack said. “Do you know if Mrs. Cole has a sled in the barn?”
“Yep. But one of the runners is broken.”
Jack blew out a long breath. “You go back up to the house. I have something to take care of, then I’ll be right there.”
Abraham bobbed his head and bou
nded through the snow. Jack set off for the creek bed. He thought better of his action, and pivoted on his heel. Glancing up, he discovered Abraham staring at him from a few paces away.
“We didn’t do it,” the boy declared, his head canted at a forlorn angle. “We didn’t set that fire.”
“I know.”
The boy’s shoulders straightened with relief. “You’ll tell that to my pa, then?”
“Of course I will.”
Abraham jerked his head toward the main house. “Let’s go, then.”
Jack cast another look at the creek bed. He’d like to explore that cave once more. What else would he find in those boxes? More money? More evidence?
Will Cole always rode a distinctive bay mustang.
That crotchety old sheriff had actually managed to stumble onto the truth.
The same questions swirled through Jack’s head. How much did Elizabeth know? Did she know her husband had stashed stolen loot for a gang of bank robbers? Would his feelings for her change if she was involved?
Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t know what to think.
She’d been terrified from the moment he’d burst into her life. He’d always assumed her fear had been directed at him, but what if something more sinister had frightened her? What if she was being blackmailed?
If she’d known the money was in the cave, surely she’d have steered him and Ely away from clearing the brush. Yet when they’d mentioned the task this morning, she’d only smiled, her pale blue eyes clear and innocent. She couldn’t have known about the money, or she’d have been terrified of discovery.
He glanced over the rise at the charred remains of her house. He had the uneasy feeling someone else knew of Will’s involvement, and they were looking for that money.
His chest constricted. He’d found the loot and the real outlaw. Yet he had the uneasy sensation he’d just lost. And he’d lost big.
* * *
Elizabeth pulled down the galvanized tub and flipped it over onto the floor. She clambered atop the metal dome and stretched until her fingers closed around the rough wooden slats of the crate containing Will’s saddlebags.
Winning the Widow's Heart Page 21
