“Jack’s gonna be real mad when he finds out we’re in the main house,” Jo called from the kitchen. “He gave mighty strict instructions about staying outside.”
“I told you to wait outside,” Elizabeth grumbled.
“If you don’t have to listen to instructions, why should I?”
“At least be careful and stay out of the parlor. And the bedroom.”
Elizabeth harrumphed as she set the box on the floor. She tore open the flap, then paused. What she didn’t know, couldn’t hurt her. “I want to see if we can salvage any of these canned goods.”
For the next few minutes she puttered around the pantry, rubbing her towel over jars blackened with soot. All the while the saddlebags rested near her feet. When she’d discovered the Bible, something had bothered her. Will never did anything without a purpose. And he certainly wasn’t a religious man. A Bible was innocuous, innocent. No one would search through the pages if the book was discovered. She certainly hadn’t. If Will had left behind any clues to Bud Shaw’s identity, she owed it to Jack to look.
Mustering her resolve, Elizabeth wiped her hands and knelt. She tugged on the leather flap and pulled out the Bible. A neat row of hand-written names adorned the inside cover. The Cole family tree. She ran her finger along the cascading history. One name in particular caught her attention—Bradford Shaw.
A sudden memory shocked her upright, Jack’s voice, Is he in there? Where’s Bud Shaw.
Bradford and Bud. A coincidence?
“We need to get going,” Jo urged.
Elizabeth shoved the Bible into the saddlebag. “We’re having a fresh chicken for dinner tonight. We might as well have one last celebration before we close up the house for good.”
She stepped into the kitchen and grasped a soot-darkened pan from its neat perch on the wall.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said. “For everything. For taking such good care of Rachel and me. For lining up the pots by size.”
“That was Mr. Elder. He’s awfully fussy for a man.”
Jo accepted the pot from Elizabeth’s limp hand. “I’m going to miss having you close like this. But it’ll be fine. We’ll see each other every Sunday at church when the weather is nice. And maybe after school. Next year is my last.”
“Of course we’ll see each other.” Elizabeth folded Jo into a quick embrace. “I never thanked you properly for helping me out the night Rachel was born. I don’t know anyone as brave as you.”
The girl’s cheeks bloomed crimson. “I didn’t do anything special.”
“Of course you did. Do you remember when you ordered that Ranger around?”
Jo worried the braid draped over her right shoulder. A smile kicked up the corner of her mouth. “You should have seen his face.”
The two of them giggled.
Elizabeth smiled. “I imagine Mr. Elder wishes I had been a bank robber.”
Jo’s giggles erupted into outright laughter. “He probably would have preferred being shot.”
“Those big strong men could never survive having babies.”
“We’re worth more than rubies.”
“Amen,” the girls spoke in unison.
* * *
Unable to find a moment alone to speak with Jack, Elizabeth spent the next day salvaging what they had retrieved from the house. She separated the items she planned on giving to the McCoys from the items she planned to auction. Kneeling on the hay-strewn floor, she emptied the remainder of Will’s belongings from his trunk and replaced his clothing with Rachel’s.
In order to air out the worst of the acrid smoke, they stretched her clothing on lines outside to flap in the gentle breeze. Elizabeth retrieved her wedding dress and rewrapped the satin gown in sheets of tissue paper. She’d have little use for such a fine outfit in the future, and the memories associated with the beautiful dress were best left to the prairie winds.
She tucked a note to Jo inside the lace-edged bodice and stacked the box against the stall wall. Someday, Jo would need a courting dress. Elizabeth hoped the younger girl would heed her advice and trust her own heart when choosing a husband. Turning, Elizabeth surveyed the items she’d be taking with her to town. She’d whittled her possessions down to a trunk and satchel. Her entire life in a tiny heap—just enough to start over fresh, someplace far away.
She crossed the length of the barn just as Jack draped a blanket over something in the wagon they’d moved inside for loading. He straightened at the sound of her footsteps. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he looked almost guilty.
“What are you covering?” She peered over the edge.
His gaze didn’t quite meet hers. “Just a couple of hay bales. You can throw a handful under the wheels if the wagon gets stuck in the snow. Hope you don’t mind me packing them. With the animals over at Ely’s, I don’t suppose they’ll be much use here.”
“Remind me to tell Mr. McCoy that he can gather the rest of the bales if he needs them.”
Jack leaped down from the wagon bed.
“Sure.” He rested one hand on her trunk. “Is that all you’re bringing to town?”
Elizabeth shrugged. In the chaos after the fire, she kept putting off telling Jack what she’d discovered about her late husband. This was her opportunity to blurt out the truth, to admit that nothing here truly belonged to her since she didn’t know what had been purchased with stolen money.
The words stuck in her throat.
They’d been getting along so well, she didn’t want to lose even one minute of their limited camaraderie. She’d confess once they arrived in town. “I’ll be staying at the boarding house until Rachel and I can find a new home. I can send for the rest later.”
“Seems like a baby needs more stuff. Strange how the littler they are, the more they seem to need.” He paused for a moment. “I have something else you can bring.”
He motioned for her to follow him to the work area. As they approached the space, the pungent odor of varnish stung her nostrils.
Jack skirted aside, revealing a gleaming wooden crib resting on a drop cloth. “I found a tin of varnish in the cupboard there. I cut up one of the trunks in the bunkhouse. I figured you’d need this more.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know much about carpentry, but the joints are real solid. Should hold a baby just fine.”
Tears pricked behind her eyes. The pieces she and Jo had seen in the barn had all been assembled. Carved ivory decorated the head of the crib in an arched leafy trail. Jack hadn’t been bored. He’d been making Rachel a gift.
“I just thought the baby should have something besides a drawer and a laundry basket.” He scuffed at the floor with his boot.
Elizabeth knelt and studied the piece.
Jack stuck out a warning hand. “You’d best not touch it. I don’t think the varnish has dried yet.”
Resisting the temptation to run her fingers over the wood, she rested her hand on her chest. The painstaking detail he’d carved into the piece enchanted her. “So that’s what you’ve been doing all morning. I wondered where you disappeared to.”
That same shadow of guilt crossed over his face. “Yep.”
Elizabeth folded her hands together. Her whole life was slipping away. She was leaving everything behind— everything that was familiar, all the little things that had brought her so much joy over the past few months. Even the memories of Will seemed to fade into the past. They were hazy and distant, out of focus, while the good times stood out in sharper relief.
“Do you like it?” Jack asked, a heartbreaking note of doubt in his voice.
Contentment swelled in her chest. “The crib is beautiful. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He sighed, his shoulders relaxing.
“You’ve been such a blessing
to me.”
“Anyone would have done the same.”
“You and Jo are too stubborn for your own good.”
“I’ll agree with you about Jo, but I like to think of myself as decisive, a man of action.”
Elizabeth smiled at his posturing. “Not to mention modest and unassuming.”
“I never was one to hide my light under a bushel.”
I have fallen in love with him.
The truth struck her like a lightning bolt. The process had happened so gently, she hadn’t noticed the signs. The way her heart flipped when he entered the room, the way her thoughts strayed to fond memories of his kisses, the way she had begun to think of the three of them as a family. The source of her melancholy finally made sense. She had given her heart to a dream.
Elizabeth blinked. Falling in love slowly was much more binding and endearing than instant infatuation. “Do you think you’ll ever marry?”
She regretted the question before she even finished speaking.
Head bent, he considered her question. “I’m not good husband material. My job is my life, and my job requires me to travel. I’m never in one place for too long.”
“Of course.”
“I suppose I could always settle down and become the sheriff of some sleepy hamlet. I could arrest the town drunk every Friday.”
“And let him out of jail every Sunday for church?”
“Well, of course! As town sheriff I’d consider it my duty to rehabilitate the disorderly.”
He was joking with her, to put her at ease, and she appreciated the effort. “It’s getting late. If I want to make it to town before sunset, I’d best finish packing up the rest of the things we salvaged from the fire.” She thought about the fire. “Say, did you find out anything about the man Abraham saw? Mr. McCoy said you discovered tracks by the creek bed, but he didn’t appear concerned.”
A look she couldn’t quite read flitted across his face. “I didn’t.” He hesitated. “But I don’t think you should stay here any longer than necessary. I don’t like the idea of a stranger lurking around.”
Elizabeth suppressed a shudder. “Me, either.”
Jack moved to stand before the stall. “Do you think this horse can pull the wagon all the way into town?”
“She’s stronger than she looks.”
Jack patted the mare’s muzzle. “Seems like all the gals on this farm are stronger than they appear.”
“I believe you’ve just compared me to a horse. I don’t know whether to be complimented or insulted.”
Jack laughed good-naturedly at his own gaff. “Point taken.” His expression grew somber. “Do you have the resources to move to town?”
He hadn’t said the words outright, but she knew he meant money. “Will left us set pretty well.”
Her answer didn’t seem to comfort him. “I’ll drive with you into town.”
“Of course.”
“You know you can always trust me,” he spoke quietly.
My husband was a bank robber.
She longed to confess what she’d discovered in the Bible. About seeing the name, Bradford Shaw. They’d all teased and tormented Jack for barging into her home all those weeks ago, but he’d been right all along. Her husband was involved. He was also dead.
A distinctive bay mustang.
Will had won the horse from Mr. Peters, the owner of the mercantile, in a card game. Once again her late husband’s activities had come back to haunt him—and her. He’d covered his tracks well. In the end, his vanity had done him in. A less flashy horse might have garnered less attention.
With the weather and the heavy load, the long wagon trip to town was bound to take two hours at least. She didn’t think she could stand sitting next to the Ranger with the weight of Will’s betrayal hanging between them.
Jack couldn’t do anything until he reached town, anyway. She’d wait until they arrived, and give him the Bible when they separated. She didn’t know if Bud Shaw was guilty or innocent, but she owed it to him to let Jack find out. She had to do everything she could to ensure an innocent man didn’t hang.
Suddenly chilled, she pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. Jack could wire the Santa Fe railroad line and get a copy of Will’s work schedule.
She wasn’t sure how deeply Will had been involved in the scheme, or how his actions would affect her. Maybe one of his relatives had been involved, and he’d been too loyal to turn in his partner. Either way, Jack needed to track Will’s job schedule. Once the truth was revealed, she’d face the consequences. She was an outlaw’s widow, and Jack wasn’t the marrying kind.
As for her love, she had the rest of her life to mourn that loss.
Chapter Sixteen
Twenty minutes later, a somber group gathered in the center of the clearing. Jack chafed at the delay, anxious for the journey. He didn’t want any distractions while he questioned Elizabeth. Instinct told him he was close to a breakthrough with her.
Mr. McCoy held the milk cow by a knotted-rope tether. “I’ll miss you, lass. But we’ll be up to town before you know it.” He shifted in the snow. “The boys and I will come back tomorrow for the rest of the animals.”
“Don’t forget the barn cat.” Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her body and rubbed her shoulders. “She saved me from the wolves. I’d hate to think of her out here all alone.”
“I’ve got some salted fish. We’ll lure her back to our place, all right. It’ll give the boys something to do other than wrestle one another.”
“Are you certain you have enough room? Won’t this be too much of a burden?”
“We can always use another milk cow around the place.”
“Of course.”
Jo stepped forward and pumped Elizabeth’s hand. “I’ll see you in church.”
Elizabeth nodded, but her gaze shied away. Jack’s instincts flared.
Ely embraced the widow in a bone-crushing bear hug, tears shimmering in his eyes. “You take care of the little one, lass. And take care of yourself. Don’t you worry about a thing. We’ll keep an eye on the place while you’re gone. Looks like this weather is about to break. It’ll be spring before you know it. Don’t forget to ask the doc about my rash.”
“I will.” She grinned indulgently. “Thank you, for everything.”
“Get on with you. It’s going to be dark soon.”
Jack assisted her onto the plank-wood carriage seat. Rachel’s basket rested on the floor with the baby tucked snugly inside. Tethered to the back of the wagon, Midnight snorted and balked, as if offended by the subservient position. Jack clambered up beside Elizabeth and slapped the reins to wake up her tired old mare. The horse jolted forward.
They lumbered to the end of the drive. Elizabeth touched his sleeve.
“Wait,” she said. “I want to take one last look. I want to remember this.”
The worst of the damage centered on the front of the house, lending the scene a neglected, forlorn appearance. The wind whipped the hair loose from beneath her bonnet. The strands snapped at her eyes.
Jack cleared his throat. “I’m sure someone will rebuild.”
“Someone has been rebuilding this place for more than thirty years. Maybe it’s cursed.”
“There’s no such thing as a curse. This is a harsh land. Everyone who lived in this house left the prairie a better place.”
“Except for me.”
“You did your best. That fire wasn’t your fault.”
“Then whose fault was it?”
Jack shrugged.
He had an idea who had caused the damage, but he wasn’t ready to confide in Elizabeth just yet. Will had probably bragged about his escapades, and someone was looking for the money. The boys had seen t
he man, and Jack had seen evidence of a rider. He’d started to tell her about the cave a hundred times, but the words stuck in his throat. He wanted her to trust him.
Using the evidence he’d discovered as proof of Bud Shaw’s innocence, he’d telegraph the jail in Texas once they arrived in town. He still wasn’t sure why Will had chosen to steal Bud Shaw’s identity, but it really didn’t matter anymore. He’d have the sheriff keep an eye on the homestead in case the man who started the fire returned.
The grueling miles to town passed in tense silence. Jack attempted to start up a conversation a few times, but Elizabeth mostly ignored his overtures. She stared into the distance, somber and distracted. When the town’s smokestacks appeared on the horizon, Jack reined the horse to a halt. “I’ll ride Midnight the rest of the way.”
He swung out of the driver’s seat. “You okay to handle the reins?”
He spoke to her bonnet as she bent to retrieve something from beneath the seat. Straightening, her expression pinched, she held out a book.
“I should have told you sooner.” She cleared her throat. “But I didn’t know how.”
Realizing she held a Bible, he frowned. “Told me what?”
“This belonged to Will. I think maybe he was related to Bud Shaw. There’s a family tree. A man named Bradford Shaw is Will’s first cousin. It can’t be a coincidence.”
His heart sank. “How long have you known this?”
“Not long. The Bible was tucked away in Will’s saddlebags. I never went through his things until after the fire.”
“Your husband has been dead for eight months.”
“I don’t expect you to understand.” She rubbed her temples beneath the rim of her bonnet with mittened hands. “You’ve got his whole family laid out in the front of that book. I’m sure you’ll be able to prove Bud was involved because he and Will knew each other. They were cousins… .” She paused. “There’s more.”
His head throbbed. Emotions clouded judgment, and poor judgment got people killed. “How much more?”
Winning the Widow's Heart Page 22
