“Mrs. Hartman.” The pristine man stood up. “I have been preparing to take you through the accounts. The men are waiting to get paid.”
“Who normally does that?”
“Matt Duncan.” The butler’s eyes lingered on her. “But I thought you might like to do it yourself. Seeing as you are the mistress of the house.”
“What’s your name?”
“Harrison, ma’am.”
“Do you have a first name, Harrison?”
A faint smile eased his formal expression but vanished instantly. “Just Harrison, ma’am. Butlers don’t have a first name.”
“All right, Harrison.” Claire circled the desk and sat in the chair the butler had vacated. “Let’s get to work.”
Harrison showed her where the money was kept, and handed over the key to the strongbox. “I have one key,” he explained. “Mr. Hartman had the other.”
Claire studied the shiny brass key nestling in her palm.
“Is this his key?” she asked.
“Yes.” The butler’s eyes flickered. “Would you like to take mine instead? We can exchange.”
Claire curled her fingers into a fist and felt the sharp edges of the key bite into her palm. “No,” she said in a low voice. “I refuse to be intimidated by a man who’ll soon be rotting in the ground, and whose soul is already burning in hell.”
“Very good, ma’am,” Harrison said and bustled with the ledger. He seemed unperturbed by her outburst, as though she had made a remark about the weather. Did nothing unsettle the man? Now that Claire thought of it, he had been utterly calm, even when he’d been the first person to reach her after the shooting.
“Are you always so unflappable, Harrison?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a blank look, but she could see the humor lurking beneath his professional front. “It’s part of my job, ma’am.”
“All right, Harrison.” Claire managed a shaky smile. She unlocked the strongbox and flipped open the lid to reveal the gold and silver inside. “Let’s get on with it.”
****
By the afternoon, Claire knew the layout of the house and understood a little about the running of the ranch. There was a cook, and two girls the butler referred to as parlor maids, and another three servant girls for cleaning the house and feeding the men.
Out of the twenty riders, only four had offered to stay. Two were old timers who had been at the ranch since the De Santis days. Miguel Pereira seemed to be around sixty, and the other man had to be close to eighty. Everyone just called him Squint, on account of his eyes that refused to focus together and instead strayed to opposing directions.
The other two were a pair of dark young men with lean bodies and quick smiles. Their names were Pedro and Ramon Vega, and Claire learned they were brothers. She suspected their reluctance to leave might have something to do with the two parlor maids.
After she had paid the sixteen ranch hands who shuffled in an awkward silence through the office, accepting the money they were due but not meeting her eyes, she sent Harrison to gather the men into the yard and went out to see them off on their way.
The bright sunshine almost blinded her. The men stood in a loose group, each holding a horse loaded with their meager belongings—a bedroll tied behind the saddle, a pair of saddlebags, and for some a rifle or a shotgun in a scabbard. She put up a hand to shield her eyes and searched for Matt Duncan in the midst.
When she located him standing beside a dappled gray appaloosa, she walked up to him and held out her hand. After some hesitation, he reached out and gingerly clasped his fingers around hers. Claire held on, her hand resting against his big, calloused palm.
“I am speaking to you, because I know you’re the leader, but I speak to all of you. Go in peace. I bear no ill will toward any of you. I accept that you wish to go, but should you ever wish to return, I want you to know that you’d be welcome here.”
Matt Duncan’s fingers tightened around hers. To her surprise, Claire thought she saw him blink a few times. He nodded and withdrew his hand. Then he called out to the band of men, who got on their horses and formed into a line that streamed out of the yard. A moment later, Claire heard a burst of raucous yells and saw the riders break into a canter.
She turned around and went into the house.
Now she could wait no longer.
She had to go and find Rafael.
Miguel Pereira had known the De Santis family, and Claire chose him rather than one of the young Mexican brothers with mischievous dark eyes. She found him at the stables, watering the few horses left in the stalls. “Could you take me out to the halfbreed?” she asked. “I haven’t seen him around today.”
“He keeps to himself.”
“I know. However, I need to speak to him.”
“He should have come over yesterday. Saturday is payday. It’s only because of the wedding we weren’t paid until today.”
“I see,” Claire said. “He hasn’t come for his money.”
Miguel Pereira pulled down the brim of his hat. “I’ll take you out to his place. Go and find a hat while I saddle your horse. The sun is too fierce for your fair skin.”
****
By the time they reached the barn, Claire’s silver satin gown was damp with perspiration and covered in dust. With dismay she realized it would be ruined before the day was over. It might have been what she wore to her dismal wedding but it was still an elegant gown, and she refused to give Hartman the power to turn her against an innocent piece of fabric. She resolved to do her best to salvage the garment.
Once she had found Rafael, they would ride out to Circle Star and get the rest of her clothing, including her denim pants and cotton shirts. And Claire desperately wanted to see Susanna, now that she could finally let go of the reserve she had built around herself while she prepared to commit murder.
Her heartbeat quickened as they approached the burnt-out old homestead. She knew the barn was exactly the same, and yet it looked different.
Forlorn. Abandoned.
With a cry of distress, Claire tugged at the reins to bring Estrella to a halt. She allowed Miguel to help her down, and then she ran past him and reached the door first.
The bed was stripped to bare boards. The blankets were gone, as was the clutter on the table, and the few pieces of clothing that had hung from the nails beaten into the timber walls. Even the washing line strung between the walls had been taken down.
“He’s gone.” Claire whirled around, sweeping the room with her eyes. Her gaze settled on the bed. No cool cotton sheets, no rustling layers of straw. She bit her lip, blinking back tears. Rafael was gone, with no goodbye, no word of explanation.
“He’ll be back, Miss Claire.”
She turned to Miguel. “How can I believe that he’ll be back when I can’t even bring myself to believe he’s gone?”
The old man took her arm and guided her toward the sunshine outside. “You’ll have to wait. You mustn’t speak of him to anyone, or ask any questions. He must be forgotten. We should only remember him as a halfbreed who worked with the horses and went by the name of Rain Cloud.”
Claire shot him a curious glance. “You knew who he was?”
“From the start, but I only told him when he asked me to fetch Miss Susanna for you.”
“Hartman is dead. It can’t matter if people find out.”
The grip of Miguel’s fingers on her elbow tightened. “It matters. Trust me. It would matter to the sheriff, and to that greedy lawyer. Never reveal the truth to anyone.”
Claire pressed him to explain, but Miguel refused to say anything more. They mounted on their horses in silence. Miguel rode with her as far as Circle Star. Then he turned back without a word, leaving her to arrive alone in her tattered gown.
Gomez abandoned his chores by the stable door as he saw her approach. He hurried over to help her down. “Miss Claire. Did you change your mind?”
“No. I didn’t. It’s Mrs. Hartman now.” She gave him a tired smile. “Thank
you for the bullets. They saved my life. And I’m no longer married. I am a widow now.”
She left him to deal with Estrella and walked up to the house. The young ranch hand stared after her with a baffled expression on his face, as if not quite knowing what how to interpret her remarks.
Soon he would understand. Soon everyone would know. Gossip had the tenacity to reach far and wide, and Claire had no doubt that she would become notorious as the woman who shot her husband on her wedding night and got away with it.
She straightened her spine.
So be it.
The most important thing was that her loved ones were safe.
“Claire? What are you doing here?” Susanna raced toward her across the gravel yard. “I was in the kitchen getting a cup of coffee when I saw you through the window. What is it? Did that horrible man hurt you again?”
Claire lifted her chin. She would live with it. What else could she do?
“He didn’t hurt me,” she said. “He’ll never hurt anyone again.”
Then her courage failed, and the tears came. Susanna wrapped her arms around her and led her into the house and settled her on the sofa in the parlor. Somehow, between the racking sobs, Claire managed to tell her how she had killed Hartman, and how the sheriff had accepted it as an accident.
“He’s gone,” Claire wept. “I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again.”
“Who is gone?”
“The man who healed me when I was hurt. The halfbreed in the barn.”
“The halfbreed?” Susanna’s voice was hesitant.
Claire raised her tearstained face. “He healed me, and now he’s gone.” The two girls looked at each other, each suspecting that the other knew more about the quiet man than they were saying, but neither daring to speak out their thoughts.
“He’ll come back,” Susanna said. “You’ll see.”
“I’ll wait. I’ll go back to the ranch and wait. He might never come back, but I need to be there in case he does.”
“If you stay here, Connor and I can keep you company, take care of you.”
“No.” Claire gathered herself on the sagging cushions. “I had to come…tell you…but now I have to go back…”
Susanna launched into a fervent protest, but to no avail.
Nothing she did or said could persuade Claire to remain at Circle Star.
****
Connor lay in bed beside Susanna and stroked her pregnant belly with his fingertips. “I was a fool not to figure out why Claire married Hatrman.” He shook his head, still struggling to come to terms with it. “If I’d known her better…if I had understood her courage…I might have stopped her from putting herself in danger like that.”
Susanna sighed. “I wish she would come and live with us.”
Connor braced his weight up on his elbow and brushed a kiss on her lips. “She wants to stay at the De Santis place, in case that halfbreed you told me about comes back.” He lifted his brows in question. “Isn’t that what you told me? That he took care of her after Hartman raped her, and now she hopes he’ll return.”
Susanna lowered her lashes. “Strange how everyone started calling it De Santis place again as soon as Hartman was dead. As if Hartman never existed.”
“It had been De Santis place for a century. It was Deep Valley just over a year.”
Susanna looked up. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”
Fear stirred in Connor as he searched her eyes, trying to read her guarded expression. He’d known something would go wrong. Some disaster always came and destroyed his happiness. Susanna hesitated, making Connor realize he had betrayed his unease.
He forced his body to relax. “What is it?”
“It’s about that halfbreed. Did you ever meet him?”
“No,” Connor replied. “But I saw him at Circle Star on Claire’s wedding day. I was upstairs, changing into clean clothes after dealing with a sick cow. You were talking to him by the kitchen door. I watched you through the window of my bedroom.”
“He is Rafael De Santis.”
Connor made a huff of dismissal. “Can’t be. That halfbreed was old. Rafael only had five years on me. Anyway, he joined the army and died in some border skirmish. Pete Jackson told me about it.”
“No,” Susanna said. “He lived, but he must have been badly injured. He walks with a limp, and his face is furrowed with lines. He looks like an old man.” She lowered her gaze and fidgeted with the lace on the front of her nightgown. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you before. I promised Rafael that I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“It’s all right.” Connor touched her cheek. “You were keeping a promise to a friend, and I respect you for it.” He flopped down on his back and stared at the ceiling as his mind grappled with the idea of Rafael de Santis alive. “Do you think Rafael was hanging around, figuring out how to deal with Hartman, but Claire beat him to it?”
“That’s just it. I’m not sure that she did.” Susanna took a deep breath. “On Claire’s wedding day, Rafael came to me and asked to borrow my gun. It’s the same as Claire’s. One of a pair. They used to be my father’s guns. The following morning I found it at the stables. It was wrapped in a piece of cotton and tied to Santiago’s saddle.
Connor slanted a curious look at his wife. “Had it been fired?”
“It was fully loaded, but Rafael could have reloaded before returning it.” Susanna’s lips trembled. “I daren’t ask Claire what really happened. If she killed Hartman, the sheriff is prepared to let her get away with it. If Rafael did it, the sheriff would make him hang for the crime. If Rafael shot Hartman, he can never come back.”
“The sheriff might be crooked, but he’s not incompetent.” Connor watched a fly buzzing around the oil lamp on the bedside table as he thought it all through. “No,” he said finally. “It had to be Claire.”
“I don’t know,” Susanna replied. “All I know is that Claire loves Rafael, but she refuses to talk about it. And I know she is waiting for him to return, but I don’t think he’ll ever come back.” She expelled a forlorn sigh. “I feel as if I have broken Claire’s life into pieces, and I can’t put it back together again. I am to blame, because I invited her here, and that’s been the cause of every evil thing that has happened to her.”
“You can’t control fate,” Connor said. “It’s not your fault.”
“I know.” Susanna gave another sigh. “But I wish I could.”
****
Claire held the lantern high for her nightly inspection of the stables. Everything appeared calm. The horses snoozed in their stalls, and the big ginger cat she was convinced had never in its lazy life caught a mouse lay curled asleep on the floor.
“You spoil that cat,” she said to Miguel Pereira who had finished cleaning a saddle and was strolling to prop it back on a bracket fixed to the wall.
Miguel smiled. “Of course I do. She’s the lady in my life.”
”I think ginger cats are usually toms,” Claire pointed out.
Miguel’s smile broadened. “In which case, I love him like a son.”
Claire had promised herself she wouldn’t ask. She made the same promise every morning, and every evening she broke it. “No news?”
“You know that I’d tell you as soon as old Squint gets back from the post office,” Miguel replied. His tone held a subtle reproach.
“Of course,” Claire said. “I was just.…”
Miguel waited until he could be sure she had finished talking. Then he sighed and said, “I’ll write to Mr. and Mrs. De Santis again, if you like. Ask them about the boy, in case he’s been in touch.”
“Could you do that, please?” Claire said. “I would really appreciate it.” She lowered the lantern and walked out and through the cobbled courtyard into the house.
Running the ranch gave her an interest that dulled the ache inside her, and she had thrown herself into the task. She told herself she was doing it for Rafael, making sure everything would be perfect for him when he returned.
Old Miguel Pereira had been the foreman during the De Santis days, and she had restored him to that position. Pete Jackson had lent them six hands from Circle Star, and Miguel had tracked down a group of eight competent men who had been riding west through Cedar City. When offered a job, four of them had decided to stay.
The Vega bothers had written to a friend in Denver, who wanted to be closer to his aging parents in Old Mexico. The man had set off on the journey with two others, and they had added three more to their number along the way, which brought them back to full strength of twenty men.
Claire had telegraphed her parents to tell them about her sudden marriage and a shooting accident which had left her a widow. The one piece of good luck in her life was that Susanna had never worked up the courage to write the letter claiming she was dead.
Her parents had telegraphed back, begging her to go home. She had refused, and had asked them to come out for a visit instead. Of course, her father couldn’t abandon his duties as a judge, and her mother wouldn’t travel without him. Claire was left without family support, but at least it saved her from intrusive questioning.
When she learned that Miguel Pereira kept in touch with Rafael’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. De Santis, she had asked for their address. She had written to them, offering to sell the ranch back to them at the same price Hartman had paid for it.
She was still waiting for an answer.
Every morning she woke up, expecting it to be the day Rafael would come back. Each night, she went to bed, her heart heavy with disappointment. Then it got to a point where she could no longer ignore the changes in her body. The suspicion she had been trying to ignore turned into certainty, and a new anxiety overshadowed her longing for Rafael’s return.
****
Claire planned to ride out to Circle Star and let Susanna be the first to hear the news, but she came across Miguel Pereira at the stables when she went to saddle Estrella. Susanna had given the silver mare to her, calling it a wedding present. When Claire had grimaced, Susanna had called it a widow present instead, and they had burst into a frantic laughter that had sent tears streaming down their cheeks.
Circle Star Page 30
