“What does that have to do with Uncle Thomas?” Tim asked, the wheels turning behind his eyes.
“I’m getting to it,” she snapped, immediately regretting it at the flash of hurt in Tim’s gaze—just before the unyielding shield dropped into place. She swallowed the lump of guilt and pain and fear, and continued. “One of the reasons my ma thought I was getting into trouble was because I was asking around town about Hess. No matter where I went or who I asked, doors shut in my face. Apparently, everyone in town was too scared of the sidewinder to say boo about him.”
“I can see why. He robbed a bank in broad daylight and shot a man in cold blood—probably with a town of witnesses.”
She nodded. “Yes, that’s right. No one would tell me what they knew about Hess. But finally, after three months of nothing, one of the saloon girls sent me a note, telling me to meet her. I snuck out that night and met her in the alley behind the saloon—”
“What’s with you and dark alleys?” Tim interrupted, his tone incredulous.
She chose to ignore his rude interjection. “She was scared, but she told me she knew my brother, knew what a good man he was. She said he didn’t deserve to die like that. Then…she told me that Hess was headed northwest, looking for work in Montana. She said she heard tell that Hess got himself a comfortable job tending the ranch for a man who struck it rich and was tossing his money everywhere.”
A light went off in his eyes. “Uncle Thomas,” Tim said, rubbing at his jaw, a look of bewilderment on his face. “Uncle Thomas hired Dalton Hess?”
“Yes.”
“But does he know what kind of man he hired? He couldn’t, could he? He wouldn’t have hired a crook and a murderer.” It seemed that Tim was trying to convince himself more than her. She felt for him. At first, she’d hoped the best of her ma’s best friend’s husband. But the more she learned about him, the more she realized that “Uncle” Thomas was up to something…and Dalton Hess was in on it.
“Uncle Thomas and Dalton Hess are planning something.”
“How do you know?”
She felt a sly smile crease her face. “I pretty good at sneaking around…though, I’m sure he might have figured out what I was doing.”
Another light went off in his eyes. “That’s why I’m here—to keep an eye on you. To make sure you’re not snooping into his business.” There was an edge to his voice. She shuddered.
“Does he want you do anything else? Anything in town? Perhaps something to do with the store?” she asked, trying to get the cart rolling. Maybe Uncle Thomas had told Tim something that Tim might not have known was important.
Tim rubbed at his jaw again, the dark bristles making a brushing sound against his hand. “Well…he did say I needed to pick up some crates in town on Friday.”
“Crates?”
“I’m supposed to pick them up from the stage and drive them out of town to one of his claims.”
Struck by the oddity of that request, JoJo furrowed her brows. “What’s in the crates?”
He shrugged. “He wouldn’t say.”
As if a blanket were pulled from off her head, JoJo knew what she had to do.
“I think it’s time we talked to Aunt Melda.”
Tim arched an eyebrow. “Why? What can she do?”
JoJo chuckled, a sliver of humor cutting off a bit of the darkness in her heart. “Believe me, that woman could move a mountain if she wanted to see what was behind it.”
Chapter Sixteen
“You’ve lost your mind!” Aunt Melda exclaimed, hand to her heaving chest, eyes wide, mouth pinched. “Where do you get such ideas—your uncle, my husband, a criminal.”
Flooded with a twisting mixture of alarm and guilt, Tim took his aunt’s hand in his and guided her toward an upholstered chair—one of five in her private sitting room.
“Aunt Melda, we never said he was a criminal…”
Joanna’s sharp glance told him she thought their uncle was exactly that, but he was trying to calm Aunt Melda.
“We are just worried that he might be into something and not know just how serious it is,” Joanna added, her face struggling to make a sympathetic expression. “We’re worried about him, Aunt Melda,” she began again. “And I know you are, too.”
Aunt Melda’s gaze slammed into Joanna, and it practically set fire to her dress. “I told you that in confidence, Joanna! How dare you say such things in front of Timothy? I trusted you.” Aunt Melda made to stand, probably to throw them out, but Joanna reached forward and placed a hand on the woman’s arm.
“Aunt Melda, you can trust Tim,” she turned to him, her golden eyes flashing with something that made his belly clench. “I trust him.” Those words, said so simply, were like tongues of lightning, striking him.
She trusted him? He didn’t know why that was so important, but it was.
Aunt Melda sniffed and turned her face away, but not before Tim saw the look of abject sorrow written there.
“Aunt Melda, is there anything you can tell us about Uncle Thomas’s plans? I know he has a claim north of town, and I know he wants me to deliver some crates there at week’s end. But he won’t tell me what’s going on.”
“Not only that,” Joanna broke in, “he’s hired a man I know spells trouble, and that man is planning something in town. Something to do with the store.”
From where he was standing, he could see the Aunt Melda’s brow furrow, confusion settled in where the sorrow had been. At least she’s curious now, he hoped.
Aunt Melda cleared her throat and turned back to them, her face now set in a blank mask. “The store? What does that have to do with your uncle? He doesn’t even order the goods for the house, I don’t think he’s been to the store more than a handful of times since we moved out here.”
Joanna tapped her chin, her thoughts clear on her face. She was trying to put the pieces together—well, the pieces she had. For some reason, she believed Aunt Melda had information she needed to see the picture, to solve the puzzle and bring justice to her brother.
“What does the store have that someone like Hess would want? I can’t imagine that he’d try to rob it. They can’t keep more than a few hundred dollars there. That doesn’t seem like enough to offset the risk or to split four or five ways.”
“So, if it isn’t for money, what is he after?”
“Hess? You mean Dalton Hess?” Aunt Melda asked, her face suddenly drained of color.
Taken aback by his aunt’s clear horror, Tim stepped forward and sat in the seat beside her. “Yes.”
Joanna took the seat on the other side of Aunt Melda and leaned in. “Dalton Hess. Uncle Thomas hired him about six months ago—a few months before I came here. Do you remember when he came here?”
As if lost in her own thoughts, Aunt Melda barely nodded in reply.
Swallowing a sense of foreboding, Tim asked, “Did something happen, Aunt Melda? Did Hess do something?”
He glanced at Joanna and met her gaze. The tension in her shoulders and the set of her face told him she was impatient. He sent her a look that meant ‘wait, be patient’ and she narrowed her eyes at him. She’d wait, but she wasn’t going to be happy about it. Having grown up in a house full of women, he knew many things, but one of the most important is that if you want a woman to tell you what’s really bothering her, you only need to sit. And wait.
Long moments passed, with only the sound of his own heart pounding against his ribcage, but finally— “Your uncle has changed.”
That wasn’t what he was expecting to hear, and from the look of annoyed surprise on Joanna’s face, neither was she.
“When I married him, he was salt of the earth. He understood the true reward of good, hard, honest work. But then…he heard about gold in Montana. We’d been struggling with our plot of land in Shawnee; a few harsh winters and seasons of poor crops, so we were desperate to find something, anything to keep ourselves fed. I knew I should have suggested going home to his family in Kansas, but he was adamant about not l
iving off his family’s graces.”
Knowing his ma, and the sharp-tongued lot of his aunts and uncles and his grandparents, he knew Uncle Thomas was right in staying away. That family never forgot a nickel borrowed or a slight committed.
“When we heard about the gold and about Morgan’s Crossing, we sold the land and used the last bit of our money to come here. Your uncle worked at the Morgan claim for two years before he struck a vein. The payout was enough for him to buy his own claim west of the river. Folks looked sideways at him because no one thought there was gold on that side of the river. Well, it didn’t take more than three months before your uncle struck another vein. At first, it was like the Lord was looking down on us with favor, but then…”
Tim watched as her expression fell; a proud, God-fearing woman, reduced to guilt and heartache.
“It changed him, didn’t it?” Joanna asked, her voice laden with sympathy and understanding. Goodness, but she was as soft as a down pillow when she wanted to be. With her spirit, wit, compassion, and strength, she was everything a woman should be. She was everything his woman should be. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind—there were more important things to think on, like keeping Joanna from getting them all killed.
Aunt Melda’s trembling hand wiped away a single tear, then she nodded. “It was like he’d become a man possessed. He used the money from the gold to hire more miners, then he started work on this house. He changed overnight, it seemed. He went from the hardworking, loving husband to a man who cared more for a gram of gold dust than his own family.”
“He sent Brigette and Phyllis to Dry Bayou,” Tim supplied. “Why, Aunt Melda? Ma and I can’t understand why you would send your own daughters away.”
Aunt Melda made a choking sound and gripped her bodice with white knuckles. She looked pained, as if her own heart were leaping from her chest. “Your uncle insisted that there were men in town who would kidnap the girls, using them as a way to get your uncle to give up his claim. He didn’t care that they were our daughters, that they were everything to me. He only cared about the chance of losing his precious mine.” She spat the words.
Joanna patted Aunt Melda’s knee. It was an awkward attempt at comforting the woman, but Tim couldn’t stop the heat of something like admiration that spread through him.
“After that, we began to grow apart. He spent most of his time at the claim or in his office. And when he did remember I was here, he would ply me with gifts—poor imitations of the love I really wanted.”
Shocked his aunt was telling him so much, he could only blink.
“The conservatory. The macaws,” Joanna said.
“Bribes,” Aunt Melda hissed.
“But what does all of this have to do with Dalton Hess, and with whatever he and Uncle Thomas are planning?” Joanna asked, apparently more eager than ever to get to the bottom of things.
Aunt Melda flicked her hand as if to swat a fly, then replied, “Your uncle says he hired Hess to help run things with the ranch, but that man hasn’t spent more than a day doing any ranch work. He’s been here six months and hasn’t ridden the ranch once.”
“That’s suspicious,” Tim murmured, his mind whirling. “Do you know why he was really hired?”
She pressed her hands to her lips and glanced at the door to the sitting room, as if making sure no one was listening in. “One morning, I’d finished my breakfast sooner than usual—I’d lost my appetite—and I wanted to ask Thomas about riding into town with me, just to spend some time together. His office door was open a crack, and when I looked in, he and Hess were bent over his desk looking at something. I couldn’t see what it was, and they were muttering to themselves, so I didn’t know what was going on. I must’ve made a noise because they both looked up and saw me standing there, peeking through the crack in the door.”
Joanna gasped. “What happened?”
Aunt Melda shuddered, her eyes filling with fear. “Your uncle said something to Hess, I couldn’t hear what it was, but Hess…” She shuddered again. “Hess looked at me…there was hatred—evil—in those eyes. I knew there was nothing that man wouldn’t do. Even to me.”
Nodding, Joanna said, “That man killed Joseph, Aunt Melda.”
It was Aunt Melda’s turn to gasp, her hand flying to her throat. “Heavens! Are you sure? I’d heard Joseph was killed during a bank robbery, but I—”
“He shot Joe in cold blood, then he came up here to work for Uncle Thomas,” Joanna nearly growled. Tim felt the vibration of it through his boots.
Aunt Melda blinked back tears. “Oh, honey, I am sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It was the reason I let Ma send me here. I could’ve gone to relations in Kansas, but once I discovered Hess was here, with you, I knew it was the perfect cover. I could watch Hess, see what he was planning, and then capture him red handed. Then he could be tried for the robbery and murder in Shawnee.”
Still confused at how one woman could possibly do all she said, Tim asked, “How do you plan to catch him red-handed? How do you plan to capture Hess? You talk about how you’re going to bring him to justice, but you are just one woman. He nearly killed you three days ago. I hate to tell you this, Joanna, because I admire you, but your plan has flaws. Big ones. You can’t do this without help.”
As if he slapped her, Joanna reeled back. Her golden eyes wide and her jaw open, he knew he’d hurt her. But he couldn’t make himself care right then. She might not like what he said, but everything he said was the truth.
In a snap, her expression changed, slamming closed. She pulled her shoulders back and pierced him with her gaze. “I know that, Timothy. I know my plan doesn’t work unless I have help.” The words seemed to pain her; she grimaced. “It’s why I am here, asking Aunt Melda about Hess. It’s why you’re here while I ask Aunt Melda about Hess.”
Tim glanced at Aunt Melda who didn’t look so pleased to be a part of any plan. “Don’t get me involved in this. I don’t want anything to do with that man or anything he’s planning.”
“But what if what he is planning will get Uncle Thomas in trouble? What then?”
That gave Aunt Melda pause. Her lips pinched shut and her eyes took on a glimmering of concern. “I suppose I’d want to help Thomas if I could. I…I still love him.”
“What about you, Tim?” Joanna asked, turning to him.
“What about me? I’ll help you however I can, but—” he motioned toward his shoulder in the sling, “I won’t be much help capturing anyone.”
Joanna cast her eyes to heaven, as if her patience were walking the line between paradise and perdition. “I meant do you know to which claim Uncle Thomas wants you to take the crates?”
An inkling of alarm slithered over him. “No. He didn’t tell me; said he’d let me know once it was time to make the delivery.”
“Is there a map showing his claims in his office?” Joanna asked Aunt Melda, who shook her head.
“I don’t know, but it would make sense that there is. Matter of fact, that might be what Thomas and Hess were muttering over when Hess tried to kill me with a glare,” the woman remarked, the color finally returning to her face.
Tim tensed, every muscle in his body responding to the determined glint in Joanna’s eyes. “What’re you thinking, Joanna?” he asked, hoping she’d answer with “how handsome and helpful you are.”
His hope was squelched when she replied, “I’m thinking we need to take a trip into town, you and I, Tim.”
Her answer didn’t sit well with him. What could she possibly need to do in town?
Aunt Melda clicked her tongue. “Timothy can’t ride into town, he’s practically an invalid.”
That made him chuckle. “I’m hardly that, Aunt Melda. And believe me, I broke my arm when I was sixteen—it hurt like the dickens—but it didn’t keep me from following my sisters around to keep them out of trouble.” It had been a matter of pride. When his ma was in town or visiting with folks on spreads outside of town, she’d entrust Tim with his s
isters’ safety. He loved his sisters and his ma, and he wouldn’t let something like a broken bone keep him from fulfilling his duty. “I can handle a ride into town.”
Joanna smiled at him, and his heart nearly burst with the brilliance of it. “Good. I think I need to buy a few things from the store,” she exclaimed, then winked.
Just then, Tim wondered if he’d make it back to his bed that night with all his limbs intact.
Chapter Seventeen
JoJo heaved another sigh as Aunt Melda’s foot, again, rubbed against hers. They were crammed—her, Aunt Melda, and Tim—in the surrey. Uncle Thomas had taken the carriage into town that morning, and they hadn’t known until they called for the carriage and Jimmy told them it was already gone.
It wouldn’t have been so terrible if Aunt Melda hadn’t insisted on coming. She said she wanted to spend a little time in town, but JoJo knew that what she really wanted to do was find her husband. And tear him a new hole in his hind end.
It was Uncle Thomas’s carriage, he could take it whenever he wanted, but the fact that he hadn’t told anyone he was leaving was more than a little suspicious. JoJo remembered the look on Aunt Melda’s face when she realized her own husband had flown the coop for town, without so much as an ‘I’ll be home for supper.’ Aunt Melda’s sharp features had tightened, and her thick eyebrows dove into a V over her glimmering eyes.
Now, in the surrey, pressed against Aunt Melda and the side of the conveyance, JoJo found she suddenly didn’t want to go into town. She cast a quick glance to Tim who was driving the matching roans with one arm—and he was doing a heck of a good job, too. Who knew that farmers were so good at driving one-handed? She didn’t miss how the muscles under his shirt bunched and bulged as he drove the team, keeping them on the road and moving at a good pace.
Then, as if a lantern had been lit in her mind, memories of herself, pressed against Tim’s chest, blazed through her. Hard, unyielding, warm, vibrating with his deep, comforting voice. She pressed her lips together to keep from groaning—her aunt would think her sick. Tim was strong, she couldn’t deny that, but she didn’t know why that fact made her hot all over.
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