by Clari Dees
At this dead end Wyatt turned his attention to the bank teller Mr. Dunn. Like Wyatt, the marshal was newly hired and knew little about Mr. Dunn. He did know Dunn was the newest employee of the bank and resided at a local boardinghouse. He pointed toward the bank and said although it was near closing time, Wyatt might be able to catch Mr. Dunn there.
Mr. Dunn had already gone for the day, but the manager invited Wyatt into his office, curious about the holdup. Wyatt filled him in on a few details and asked what he knew or thought about Mr. Dunn. The man informed Wyatt that in the time Mr. Dunn had worked for him, he had found him a hardworking, conscientious employee. In addition Mr. Dunn’s family lived in the area, and the bank manager had known them for years. They were well respected in the community, and he was glad to have been able to hire their son. He also confirmed that Mr. Dunn had been at work the day of the holdup in Little Creek. Wyatt thanked him for his time and upon receiving directions to Mr. Dunn’s lodgings, departed.
At the boardinghouse he was informed Mr. Dunn had a room there but ate his meals at his folks’ place and was probably still there. Wyatt was feeling hungry himself when he finally located the Dunns’ residence. An older gentleman answered his knock, and after introducing himself and explaining his errand, Wyatt accepted the offer of a meal while they talked and was ushered into the kitchen of the small home.
The older man introduced himself as Mr. Dunn, the local schoolteacher. He then presented his wife, his youngest daughter and his son George. Requesting everyone to be seated, he spoke the blessing over the food. “Enjoy the meal while it’s hot. We’ll discuss your business after we’ve eaten.”
With a minimum of conversation, everyone dug into the simple but tasty fare. When Mrs. Dunn served a delicious dried-apple pie, Mr. Dunn turned to Wyatt. “We heard about the robbery, but how can we be of help?”
“I’ve been unsuccessful in tracking down the culprit, and since your son was employed at the bank, I’m hoping he can shed some light on a few inconsistencies I’ve run across in my investigation.” Turning to George, he continued, “I’ve heard a couple of different reasons why you left Little Creek. Would you tell me your side of the story?”
George, a bookish-looking young man wearing wire-rimmed spectacles, set down his fork and wiped his mouth before responding succinctly. “Because I was fired.”
“Your former landlady said as much. The banker had a slightly different story.”
The young man scowled. “I can only guess what that old skinflint told you.”
“George!” Mrs. Dunn’s shocked reply softened her son’s face, and he shot her a look of apology.
“I’m sorry, Ma, but he was a hard man to work for.”
“Would you elaborate, please?” Wyatt asked.
“I went to Little Creek to work in the bank because I wanted to try and make it on my own. I knew I could get a job in this town because everyone respects my father, but I wanted to make it on my own name. Mr. Samuels was okay to work for the first couple of years, but after his wife died, I couldn’t seem to do anything to please him. It was as if he no longer trusted me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I had more responsibilities when I started working for him. The longer I was there, the less he let me do. He wouldn’t let me near the safe, and the only money I handled was what he placed in the teller’s drawer. He got so suspicious that if he needed to leave the bank, he’d send me home early and lock up ‘til he got back. He frequently accused me of accounting mistakes and finally outright accused me of stealing before he fired me. He didn’t even give me a chance to defend myself. By that time I was so tired of it all, I just let it go and moved back home.”
“Why didn’t you quit sooner?”
“He didn’t used to be that bad. I was going to tough it out ‘til he got better, but then he fired me. I thought I could make it on my own. Guess I was wrong.”
“Maybe the grief over his wife’s death was more than he could handle.” Mrs. Dunn patted her son’s arm soothingly.
“Maybe—” his voice was doubtful “—although he sure was more attentive to her after her death then he ever was before.”
“What a thing to say!” Mrs. Dunn chastised again.
“I’m sorry, Ma, but he was. When he did talk about his wife, which wasn’t often before she died, he wasn’t very complimentary, and he spent all hours at the bank. After she died, he was constantly talking about how he missed her, and he’d send me home so he could lock up and visit her grave. I think he spent more time with her after she died than before.” Addressing Wyatt, he asked, “How much did the bank robber get?”
“Mr. Samuels said the man cleaned out the safe, but he won’t divulge the amount taken until the culprit is apprehended. I was hoping you could tell me how much was normally kept in the safe.”
“Like I said, Mr. Samuels wouldn’t allow me near the safe, and he certainly didn’t tell me that information. The only money I ever saw was what was in my drawer for the day. Mr. Samuels put it in the drawer each morning and took it out each afternoon. For all I know, that was the only money in the bank!” George Dunn said sarcastically.
Wyatt changed the subject and gave the description of the thief. “Did you ever see anyone that matched that description or acted suspiciously?”
George thought for a minute before replying. “No. I rarely dealt with anyone I didn’t already know. Mr. Samuels made me send any newcomer directly to him.”
“Were there any ‘newcomers’ recently?”
“No. Wait. Somebody came in one day when I was coming back inside from dumping the wastebasket. Mr. Samuels hustled him into his office and sent me home. I heard him lock the door behind me when I left.”
“Did you get a good look at him?”
“I didn’t see anything but his back before he entered Mr. Samuels’s office. Anyway, he hurried me out of there and didn’t say anything about who it was. I didn’t ask, either, as he didn’t take kindly to questions. About a week later, I was out of a job.”
Wyatt had been scratching notes as George talked and now returned the little book and pencil to his pocket. Thanking the family for the meal, he asked George to send word if he remembered anything else that might be of use and stood to take his leave. “One more question. I know you were here at work the day of the holdup, but did you have anything to do with the robbery? Revenge on Mr. Samuels perhaps?” He watched George closely.
“No! I don’t like the man, but I’m not a thief!”
The man’s shock seemed genuine, and Wyatt didn’t press him further, taking his leave of the family.
Deciding against riding back home in the dark, he stabled his horse at the livery and bedded down in an empty stall at the invitation of the stable owner. Crossing his hands behind his head as he lay on his bedroll, he sifted through the information he’d learned.
There were so many odds and ends that didn’t seem to fit anywhere. Was George Dunn telling the truth or was it a case of sour grapes over losing his job? Then again, the banker had said George left to be near his widowed mother, and there was clearly no widowed mother. Why would the banker lie? Or had George lied to the banker and about the banker?
Wyatt had seen the empty safe in the minutes after the holdup; he’d seen the bandit riding away; he’d seen the wound on the banker’s head from his fall; he’d seen Mr. McIsaac bleeding on the floor. A robbery had occurred, but every clue led to dead ends and conflicting testimony. If only he could get some solid answers.
He fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming he was in pursuit of the bank robber. Every time he neared the elusive thief and reached to grab him, the man melted away leaving only questions in Wyatt’s hands. Before daylight he rolled his bedroll, saddled Charger and hit the trail for Little Creek. A little before noon he reached town, his first stop, the bank to speak to Mr. Samuels.
But its doors were locked, and his knock brought no response. At the man’s house the housekeeper informed him Mr. Samuels was out of
town visiting investors in the hopes of replacing the bank’s capital, since the marshal couldn’t seem to find the stolen money. Ignoring the not-so-subtle dig, Wyatt politely inquired about the banker’s return, but was informed condescendingly that Mr. Samuels would come home when he’d finished his business and not before.
Again Wyatt was left with unanswered questions as he rode Charger to the livery where he was met by the blacksmith and Jonah.
“I saw you ride up to the bank and figured I might catch you here,” Jonah said.
Recounting what he’d learned, Wyatt unsaddled and rubbed Charger down before turning the animal out with Franks’s geldings to graze. Franks and Jonah confirmed that the banker had frequently complained in public about his “worthless bank help” although the young man had been unfailingly polite to customers.
No new pieces of the puzzle appeared as the three men discussed the findings but agreed Wyatt needed to pin down the banker when he returned. “The town’s been real quiet since you and Miss Meri left,” Jonah said dryly.
“Meri left? Where? When? She wasn’t supposed to ride out on her own,” Wyatt snapped.
Franks chuckled, his hammer clanging a horseshoe into shape as Jonah replied to the question. “McIsaac talked Doc into letting him go home. Between Miss Meri and Mrs. Van Deusen, they filled a wagon bed full of quilts and bullied McIsaac into lying down in the back for the ride. They headed home yesterday afternoon.”
Wyatt resumed breathing. “Anything else I need to know about?”
“Nope, like I said. It’s been quiet without you two to stir up trouble.”
“Then let’s go get some food. After that I need to catch up on some reports. See ya later, Franks.”
* * *
Meri straightened and stretched her aching back. The sun was warm, but the breeze cooled her sweat-dampened skin as she leaned on her hoe and checked her progress. The garden was coming along well and looked as if it would deliver an abundant harvest this year. It was also weed free, thanks to her hard work.
It was good to be home and back in the thick of ranch life. Faither was anxious to be back out on the range he loved, and Meri didn’t know how long she could keep him off a horse, but at least for now he’d agreed to work in his office for a few days. She’d worried the trip home would tax his strength and set his recovery back, but he appeared invigorated by the fact that he was home, and she was pleased with how well he seemed to be doing. He tired quicker than normal, but that was fading a little more each day. Before long, he’d be back to full strength.
Meri, on the other hand, had about worn herself out making sure he took it easy while trying to outwork her own disordered thoughts. Coming home was supposed to restore life to normal, but normal had packed its bags and departed for parts unknown. Pastor Willis’s sermon continued to nag her heart, and Wyatt Cameron seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her thoughts. When ignoring them didn’t work, Meri tried to keep herself too busy to think, and evidence of her frenzy lay all around her.
They had arrived home Tuesday afternoon; it was now Friday. In that time she’d cleaned the chicken coop and horse stalls before progressing to every corner of the barn. She’d cleaned and oiled every saddle and bridle she could lay her hands on, and Barnaby good-humoredly accused her of trying to put his men out of a job. She would have tackled the inside of the house if Ms. Maggie and her father hadn’t shooed her out from under their feet, so she tackled cobwebs on porches and weeds in flower beds instead.
Looking over her latest endeavor, Meri viewed the weed-free garden with satisfaction.
Now what? a little voice asked mockingly. You can’t run forever.
Hoofbeats caught her ear, and welcoming the interruption, she turned, shading her eyes to see the oncoming rider. Meri’s heart gave an odd little skip as she recognized the figure on the beautiful bay. She groaned. Just when she’d managed to stop thinking about the man, he had to show up!
Sure you stopped thinking about him…for all of five minutes!
Wyatt lifted his hand in greeting.
Meri glanced down at herself. She was a mess! Sweat dripping, dirt smudges everywhere and her hair probably a wild tangle from the wind teasing it all morning. She couldn’t meet him looking like this! Dropping the hoe along with any attempt at dignity, Meri raced for the back door.
The kitchen door slammed in her wake, and Ms. Maggie jumped away from her bread dough, slapping her hand to her chest. “Good grief, girl. What’s wrong?”
Meri slid to a halt and attempted to retrieve the composure she’d left in the garden dirt. “Um, the marshal. He’s here. I’m going to my room.”
The housekeeper shook her head in exasperation, and Meri ran up the back stairs as a knock rattled the front door. Reaching the sanctuary of her room, she frantically washed up, donned a clean pink blouse and fresh skirt and with trembling fingers rebraided her windblown hair. Finally she plopped down in her rocking chair, hands shaking and nerves fluttering.
Why was she so worried about her appearance? She wasn’t vain about her looks, at least not much. They’d had visitors to the ranch when she wore the stains of hard work, but never before had she raced away to clean up, then remained hidden in her room.
Meri rocked the chair vigorously. I am not hiding! Besides, he didn’t come to see me. He came to check on Faither.
“Meri? Are ye coming down, lass? Ye have a visitor.” Meri jumped as her father’s voice echoed up the stairs.
Taking a deep breath and checking her appearance in the mirror once more, she noticed she was visibly shaking. Meri uttered a quick, desperate plea.
“Lord, help!”
The prayer had been instinctive, and a sudden thought froze her in her tracks. Maybe it wasn’t that the Lord wasn’t hearing her prayers, maybe it was that she’d actually stopped praying except for an occasional desperate yelp. Had she prayed at all since she’d gotten home?
“Meri?”
Shelving the thought, she called, “Coming, Faither.”
Feigning courage, she opened the door and hurried to the stairs. She’d fully expected to see both men waiting at the bottom and breathed a sigh of relief when they weren’t. Descending the stairs slowly, she heard voices coming from her father’s study and headed that direction.
“Ah. There she is.” Both men stood from overstuffed chairs as she entered the book-lined room where her father’s desk stood. Most of the books had been collected by her mother and lived undisturbed until long winter evenings. “I’ve invited Cameron to stay to lunch. Ms. Maggie said it would be ready shortly.”
“It’s ready now. Come and get it.” The housekeeper spoke behind her.
Meri followed the woman back to the kitchen. “I’ll help you put it on the table.”
“It’s already on the table.” The woman waved Meri toward the door.
“Where?” Meri looked at the bare kitchen table.
“We have company. It’s time that big dining table was used again, and this is as good a time as any. Now shoo, you have a guest.”
Entering the little-used dining room, Meri was surprised to see the housekeeper had set the table with a linen cloth, napkins and Catriona McIsaac’s good china. When had she had time to do it all? Surely Meri hadn’t spent that much time in her room?
Marshal Cameron held a chair for her to the right of her father, and she slid into it while avoiding his eyes. His hand brushed her shoulder, and Meri nearly jumped out of her skin at the reaction the simple touch caused. Glancing at him as he took his seat across the table from her, she intercepted a penetrating look and dropped her eyes to her plate, wondering why he was here.
After McIsaac asked the blessing and their plates were filled, Wyatt and her father continued a discussion that must have started in the study before she’d come down. It seemed that once again there were more dead ends concerning the bank robbery.
Meri chewed and swallowed automatically, losing track of the conversation. He wasn’t here to see her. He was onl
y here to keep her father informed. So why did her heart pound just a little faster every time she caught his eyes on her?
Because you’ve allowed yourself to imagine something that isn’t there. The man is simply doing his job. Once it’s done, he’ll move on. Meri fought to keep her wandering gaze on her plate and off their handsome guest.
The interminable meal ended, and McIsaac leaned back in his chair, propping his elbows atop the armrests and crossing his hands over his stomach. “I believe ye had something ye wanted to ask me daughter, Cameron.”
Meri stiffened, waiting, but neither man spoke. She darted a look at her father, but he merely pointed toward Wyatt. She steeled herself to brave the hazel-green eyes watching her.
“Ah. There you are. You’ve been very quiet.” His smile was gentle instead of teasing.
Meri felt her cheeks color. When had he gone from the most annoying man she’d ever met, to the most handsome? Taking a deep breath, she forced a composure into her voice that she was nowhere close to feeling. “What is your question?”
His gaze shifted to the table, and Meri felt like she’d lost something—which was nonsense. How could you lose something you didn’t have in the first place?
He looked back, determination gleaming in his gaze. “May I escort you to the church picnic tomorrow?”
Chapter Twelve
Meri’s breath froze in her throat. Had he really come to ask her to accompany him to the picnic? Her—Meri McIsaac? The old maid of Little Creek?
Hope sparked then an appalling question doused it. After those two men had shot at her, Marshal Cameron had said she wasn’t to go riding outside of town alone. Had he simply decided it was part of his job to escort her to the picnic—a way to keep an eye on the troublemaker? Had her father asked him to take her since he was staying home?
Her father cleared his throat, reminding her Marshal Cameron was still waiting for an answer. She swallowed the lump of mortification that stuck in her throat, and it hit her stomach like a cannonball. “Thank you, but I’m not going to the picnic. I don’t want to leave Faither alone.” At least her voice didn’t sound as embarrassed as she felt.
