Winning the Widow's Heart

by Sherri Shackelford

She scooted toward the driver’s seat. “Check the Santa Fe work records for Will Cole. You’ll find proof my husband was involved with his cousin. Will scheduled work crews for railroad projects near the banks robbed.” She lifted the reins to spur the horse forward. “That’s all I know.”

  Jack slammed the brake into place, preventing her from fleeing. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

  She’d known for days, maybe even weeks, and she hadn’t trusted him with the truth. She didn’t trust him. Despite everything he’d done for her, she’d never trusted him.

  Her face averted, Elizabeth sighed. “Jo put it all together earlier this week. I know I should have told you sooner, but the fire—”

  Despite her lack of faith in him, he forced himself to think like a Ranger. Since the moment he’d discovered proof of Will’s involvement, he’d been wondering why the man’s name hadn’t surfaced during the investigation. “We checked all the railroad crew managers. Will’s name never came up.”

  “He wasn’t a foreman. He only put together the schedules. Will had access to information on payroll and large projects. He knew exactly when the banks had the most money. He knew when the trains were delayed, when the projects started, everything.” She met his gaze, her clear blue eyes stricken. “And he always had money. Too much money for a working man. I lied to myself all along. I made excuses for him. Especially after I found out how much he gambled. Some of the people in town thought he cheated.”

  Comprehension slammed over Jack. “How could I have been so stupid? We checked foremen and managers. We never once considered a pencil pusher.”

  He circled to the back of the wagon and grabbed Midnight’s reins.

  Elizabeth twisted in her seat. “Tell the sheriff he can auction off whatever is left on the property.” Her bonnet shielded her face. “He knew Will was a cheat. He’s been wanting the property since Will died.”

  Jack winced at the stark pain in her voice. “We’ll settle up with the sheriff later.”

  “Aren’t you listening to me? You don’t have to worry about hanging an innocent man anymore. Will was related to Bradford Shaw. They were first cousins. They must have been working together.”

  Jack knew exactly what had happened. Why Will Cole had assumed Bud Shaw’s identity. All the puzzle pieces fit. Every loose end came together. The two men looked alike because they were related. The resemblance had confused the witnesses.

  Jack looped the reins over the saddle horn. “There were only three outlaws—Slim Joe, Pencil Pete and your husband.”

  Angry with his own stupidity, he fisted his hands. He’d been sitting on the proof for months. A distinctive bay mustang. He’d followed the trail of a man riding a distinctive bay mustang all the way through Texas to Colorado to Kansas. The horse had been on at least four different trains, several witnesses had attested to that, but no manifest had ever indicated the presence of the animal.

  Jack had assumed the rider bribed the workers, but a railroad employee could get away without signing the manifest.

  Elizabeth’s husband was guilty as sin, only she refused to believe it. “You’re right about one thing, Mrs. Cole. There’s a man sitting in jail, set to hang in less than three weeks. But he’s definitely innocent.” Jack lifted his head. “Your husband was impersonating Bud Shaw.”

  Elizabeth frowned, her face as pale as the snow sweeping across the prairie. “Will wouldn’t betray his own kin.”

  “It was the coward’s way out. Your husband was Bud Shaw. He framed his own cousin.”

  Her breath puffed clouds into the chill afternoon. “That’s absurd. They must have been partners.”

  “Did your husband take his horse with him when he traveled?”

  “Always. Will said he didn’t like the mounts the livery provided. He liked to stand out.”

  “I’ll prove it to you. Show me something with your husband’s handwriting.”

  “My papers are in the trunk.”

  Elizabeth brushed aside his proffered hand, leaped off the wagon seat and circled around the bed. Jack tugged the trunk until it rested on the edge and flipped open the lid. He stood aside, allowing Elizabeth access. While she searched, he snatched his own documents from Midnight’s saddlebags.

  After rummaging for a few moments, she pulled out a sheaf of papers. “There.”

  Jack flipped through the pages. He brushed the snow from the wagon bed and laid her documents beside the sheet he’d torn from the hotel register. “Bud Shaw signed his name on the register at the hotel in Texas. Look at that handwriting. It’s the same man.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “The slant of the letters is the same. Look at the W. Will puts a flourish on the end. Even you have to see that.”

  “The signatures are similar,” she replied. “I’m still not certain they’re the same man. Why didn’t Pencil Pete declare Bud’s innocence? Certainly he’d know the man wasn’t involved.”

  Jack stepped onto the back of the wagon. “This is why Pencil Pete kept quiet.”

  He whipped off the tarp and revealed the stash of Wells Fargo boxes. “I found these on your property.”

  “No!”

  “I discovered them in a cave by the creek. This is why Pencil Pete was so all-fired-up arrogant. He thought your husband was coming back to bust him out. Except Will never made it back, did he? Come to think of it, I don’t believe Will ever planned on busting his partner out of jail.

  “See, that’s what’s been bothering me this whole time. Why did Will make a trip down the creek bed in a storm? I think your husband was going to take the loot and run. After Pencil Pete and his cousin were hanged, he’d have all the money. No one was looking for Will Cole.”

  The betrayal in her eyes stabbed him like a lance.

  “Everything you say makes sense,” she spoke, her expression stricken. “I can’t believe he was willing to let his own cousin hang for his crimes. But it must be true, right?”

  “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I know how much this must hurt. But all the evidence points to Will.”

  “Does this mean you can free Bud Shaw?”

  He raked his hands through his hair. “Should be. Everything against Bud is circumstantial.”

  “What if I come to Texas?” she asked eagerly. “What if I testify that my husband was the third outlaw? That Will assumed Bud’s identity?”

  “It’d just be your word. They’d want some kind of proof.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” She climbed back onto the wagon seat, her movements stiff and weary.

  For a moment she sat, hunched over the seat. Jack rubbed Midnight’s haunches, unsure how to comfort her.

  Then she jerked upright, snapping her fingers. “Bud Shaw was shot in the leg during a robbery in Colorado last spring. Will came home with a wound on his leg around that same time. Once you show the Rangers the stolen money and tell them where you found it, and Bud proves he doesn’t have a scar on his leg, that should be enough.”

  “We better put you on the payroll. It’s perfect. You won’t even have to be involved.”

  There’d be no reason for her to accompany him to Texas.

  His heartbeat stalled.

  No reason for him to see her. Ever.

  She adjusted the reins and sat forward. “We’d best get his money to town.”

  “You can still come to Texas,” he blurted.

  “There’s nothing for me there,” she replied, her expression bleak.

  I’m there.

  The carriage surged forward. Jack whipped off his hat and slapped his thigh. What did he have to offer her?

  Everything.

  Love, marriage, a home and a family.

  He’d never thought of himself as the kind of man to marry an
d settle down. Until now.

  He mounted Midnight. Kicking the horse into a trot, he searched the horizon. They were safe. For now. But someone else was searching for that money, and money had a way of forcing men into desperate acts. It wasn’t going to take long before they discovered the loot wasn’t at the homestead. None of them were safe for long.

  * * *

  “Are you following me, Mr. Elder?” Elizabeth demanded in a harsh whisper. She glanced around the quiet mercantile, relieved no one had noticed their heated exchange.

  “Where is Rachel?” he asked.

  “I left her with Mrs. Wilmont from the boarding house.”

  “It’s not safe.”

  “Of course it’s safe. All the stolen money is at the bank.”

  “You and I know that.” Jack circled her upper arm and tugged her behind a display of penny candies. “But the man searching for those Wells Fargo boxes may still think you have them.”

  After their discussion the previous day, she hadn’t thought their next meeting would be a whispered conversation in the general store.

  Glancing around, he slapped his hat against his thigh. “I didn’t want to alarm you until I knew for certain. Pencil Pete escaped, and he’s looking for the stash. I had some suspicions after the fire. When we arrived yesterday, I telegraphed Texas. Pete broke out of jail three weeks ago. That’s plenty of time to make his way to Kansas.”

  “Why didn’t someone tell you sooner?”

  Jack snorted. “They sent the notice to the sheriff in town. Only he was too drunk to care. I don’t know why Pete set the fire. I think it may have been an accident. I think one of the McCoy boys spooked him and he knocked over the lantern.”

  Panic sucked the breath from her lungs. “It’s not going to take him long to figure the money isn’t there.”

  “He’s been watching the place for at least a day. He’s seen me. He’ll assume I have the money.”

  “I’d better—”

  “Mr. Elder!” a feminine voice called. “Mr. Elder, is that you?”

  A pretty dark-haired woman with coffee-colored eyes rounded the corner, a bundled infant in her arms. “I can’t believe it’s actually you.”

  Jack frowned before dawning recognition spread across his face. “Helen Miller, as I live and breathe.”

  “I’m Helen Smith now.” She and the Ranger shared an awkward embrace with the baby pressed between them.

  “Mr. Elder,” the woman exclaimed again as she backed away. “What are you doing in Kansas?”

  “Working,” Jack replied shortly.

  The woman’s violet calico gown enhanced her striking brown eyes, a crisp bonnet framed her creamy complexion. Helen Smith glanced curiously at Elizabeth. “Won’t you introduce us?”

  “I’m Elizabeth Cole.” She stuck out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Smith.”

  “Call me Helen. Any friend of Jack’s is a friend of mine.”

  “And how do you two know each other?”

  “That’s not—” Jack began.

  “It’s all right.” Helen interrupted with a wave of her hand. “Jack negotiated my release from the Apache when I was just a girl. They raided our settlement.” The woman’s expression clouded at the memory. “Without Jack’s intercession, I don’t know what would have happened.”

  Her whole body trembled. Sensing her mother’s distress, the baby whimpered.

  “It’s my job.” Jack scuffed his boot against the floor. “Everything turned out for the best. Looks like you’ve been busy.”

  The woman adjusted the baby to the opposite shoulder. Two spots of color appeared on her high cheek bones. “I’m a married lady, all right. My husband and I were visiting his sister in Wichita. We’re on our way home now. Our train doesn’t leave until tomorrow. Will you still be here?”

  “I’m here for a few more days.”

  Mrs. Smith’s face lit with pleasure. “Isn’t that wonderful? We can catch up.”

  Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. Having a beautiful woman from Jack’s past “catching up” with him didn’t feel wonderful at all.

  It wouldn’t hurt to remind Jack that Mrs. Smith was a married lady. “How old is your baby?” she asked pointedly.

  The woman’s attention immediately turned to her child. “This is Mary. She’s almost four months old. I can’t believe how quickly she’s growing.”

  Helen turned down the blanket and revealed a plump-cheeked, adorable infant with enormous dark eyes. Elizabeth’s heart melted at her obvious affection. Of course, Mrs. Smith wasn’t interested in Jack romantically. How silly of her to be jealous.

  “Mrs. Cole has a baby girl, too,” Jack offered. “Maybe we can all have dinner.”

  “How wonderful!” Helen exclaimed. “We can compare notes. I feel so ill equipped to raise an infant sometimes. My mother died in the Apache raid. I miss her more than ever.”

  “I know how you feel.” Elizabeth responded to the warmth in her gaze. She didn’t have a rival, she had a friend.

  They shared a knowing look. Once again Elizabeth was ashamed of her uncharacteristic bout of jealousy. She had no right to be jealous about anything. When you loved someone, you wanted what was best for them. Even if what was best hurt like a thousand bee stings.

  Helen glanced at Jack, but she directed her question to Elizabeth, “I’ll be looking forward to meeting your husband.”

  “Mr. Cole passed away.”

  Helen’s expression immediately sobered. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Cole. My family is planning on staying at the boarding house. If you need anything tonight, you just give me a holler. We women have to stick together.”

  Elizabeth’s throat tightened. “That’s very kind of you.”

  “Don’t be silly. Jack and his family were there for me when I was alone. I don’t know what I would have done without them.”

  The women exchanged a quick hug before Helen motioned to the door. “I’d best be going. My husband worries if I’m out of his sight for too long. You know how men are.” She winked at Elizabeth, then turned to Jack. “Your brothers are going to be happy to see you home again. The way they sing your praises, you’d think you hung the moon and stars. Not that I’d ever disagree.”

  Jack squirmed beneath the praise. After Helen disappeared around the corner, out of earshot, Elizabeth turned to Jack. “I didn’t know you were a negotiator.”

  “That’s my specialty. I negotiate the release of Indian hostages. Not a real exciting job, eh?”

  Elizabeth’s heart filled with pride. “I can’t imagine a braver or more noble job.”

  Jack set his hat onto his head. “I need to talk to you. Privately. I’ll call on you at four. Between now and then, stay close to the boarding house. I’ve spread word through town to look out for Pencil Pete. I’ve got men watching the train depot and the livery. But you’ve got to be careful.”

  “You be careful, too.”

  He blinked at the suggestion. The reaction shamed her. She’d never thought of the danger Jack faced every day, or what a solitary, and lonely, life he led. He spent his career looking out for others, putting his own needs last. That’s what she’d done—she’d put Jack’s needs last, as well. A man that special deserved someone just as special to love him in return. Someone without a past.

  “Elizabeth, you do know I’ll always protect you,” he spoke earnestly.

  “I know.”

  Everything that brought them together was destined to tear them apart. If she’d never married Will, she’d never have come West. If Will hadn’t been an outlaw, Jack would never have appeared in her life. No matter what brought them together, one truth remained. An outlaw’s widow made a poor prospect for a lawman’s bride. Her husband had been a party to his sister-in-law�
��s murder. How could his family ever forgive her, even if Jack somehow could?

  Jack caught her gaze, his expression uncharacteristically grave. “A man gets to thinking sometimes, and he realizes his priorities have changed. Texas isn’t such a bad place to settle down and raise a family. You know?”

  “I know.”

  Her heart thumped madly in her chest. She loved him with a wild, desperate abandon. He wanted to take care of her. Just like he’d taken care of Helen, and Jo, and even little Rachel. Eventually though, he’d regret his decision.

  She’d always be a reminder of Doreen’s murderer. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “I’m not worried.” He lifted his hat and raked his free hand through his hair. “Of course I’m worried. But that’s not the reason I hung around all this time.” He paced the narrow aisle. “I’m sorry your late husband dragged you into this mess, but I never would have met you otherwise. And I can’t be sorry about that. Once Pencil Pete is caught and Bud is cleared, none of this will matter.”

  Of course it mattered.

  Everyone in his hometown knew about the outlaws. Even if they tried to hide her identity, there’d be no hiding her involvement from Jack’s fellow Texas Rangers. People would wonder how much she knew. They’d speculate on her involvement. And Jack’s family. She shuddered to think of their reaction to Will Cole’s widow. She could live with scorn, but Rachel deserved better. Jack deserved better.

  He stared at her expectantly. The tinkling bell over the door saved her from a reply. Half a dozen men streamed into the store, their hobnail boots drowning out any chance for further conversation.

  With one hand on his front brim, the other hand on the back, Jack straightened his hat. “We’ll finish this conversation later. Promise me you’ll go right back to the boarding house.”

  Elizabeth flashed a watery smile. “I will.”

  “Because I’ll be watching.”

  “I know.”

  She followed his exit. He wouldn’t stray far. He had shadowed her every move for the past twenty-four hours. He was too honorable for his good. When she met him tonight, he’d ask her to marry him, of that she was certain. Elizabeth glanced at her hands. Was she selfish enough to accept his offer?