It was cold and wet, a miserable day on all fronts for her ma’s funeral. Alone, grieving, Sil stood at the open grave, weeping into her ice-cold hands. While a few folks who’d known her parents stood behind her in the rain, the only family she had left, John Paul, was suspiciously absent.
She figured he was up to no good, no doubt having let Quinton talk him into more stealing. She’d never doubted all the stealing and thieving was Quinton’s idea. There was a coldness to the man, and she’d never liked the way he’d looked at her. Thankfully, their paths didn’t cross often.
But later that night, when she couldn’t bear to be sad and alone for another minute, she donned her pa’s overcoat and braved the driving rain to the small house John Paul shared with Dirk, Albert and Quinton. A house no doubt paid by stolen money, which was partly why she hadn’t been back since John Paul had proudly shown it to her. It was also why she got lost twice trying to find it. As the only other time she’d seen it had been daylight, and everything looked different at night, she got turned around on the darkened streets.
When she finally found the house she was glad to see light glowing behind the closed curtains. She hadn’t thought of the possibility he’d missed the funeral because he wasn’t in town until she was over halfway there. Glad she hadn’t suffered the cold and wet for nothing, she knocked on the door.
She was about to knock again when the curtain pulled back, just enough to allow someone to peer out. Then it drifted back into place and soon after the door opened.
John Paul stuck his head out, looked past her and to both sides then yanked her inside.
“What are you doing here?”
Furious that would be his first question considering what day it was she shoved him back. “Where were you? How could you not have come to her funeral?”
His eyes widened. “That was today?”
“You forgot?” she raged.
That was when she looked past him into the room where Quinton, Albert and Dirk were sprawled on sofas, glasses of whiskey in their hands stacks of bills, mountains of coins, watches, guns, jewelry and God knew what else was piled on the floor.
“What did you do?” She gasped.
Quinton unfolded himself from his seat. His predatory gaze raked over her, left her shivering for a whole other reason than the cold and wet.
“Well, look who’s here.” He slurred.
Clearly, he’d had more than one glass of whiskey.
John Paul shook his head, positioned himself between her and Quinton. “Sil, I’m sorry I missed the funeral, I really am. But you should go. This isn’t the place for you right now.”
“Actually, this is exactly the place.” Quinton growled, shoving John Paul aside.
Behind him, Albert and Dirk taunted rude comments. Their words added a feral look to Quinton’s narrowed eyes.
“Leave her alone,” John Paul ordered.
“Why, you two more than just cousins now?” Quinton jeered.
But thankfully he didn’t press the matter, simply tipped the glass to his lips, raked his oily gaze over her, and wavered back to the sofa, much to the dismay of the other two.
John Paul grabbed her elbow, opened the door and pulled her outside.
“Sil, you need to go. Quinton’s been talking more and more about you lately and I can’t always watch him.”
The unspoken threat was clear and she wanted to vomit. She’d never let Quinton touch her. But she had nowhere to hide. The ramshackle cabin she lived in would be easy to breach for a man with Quinton’s strength. Heck, she could likely kick down the door if she had a mind to. But she had no money, nowhere else to go. She couldn’t very well find work if she constantly had to look over her shoulder for Quinton and if she didn’t have a place to wash her clothes, such as they were, and keep herself from looking like a ragamuffin, nobody would hire her anyway.
She hugged herself close as despair crept closer. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”
John Paul wrapped her in a fierce hug. Needing to lean on someone, if it was only for a moment, she pressed her cheek to his shirt, squeezed her eyes shut.
“The way I see it,” John Paul began, “at the rate they’re drinking, Quinton and the others will be asleep within the hour. Two at the most. I’ll leave the door unlocked.” He eased away from her, stared hard into her eyes. “That door will be unlocked. You understand what I’m saying?”
She did and she shook her head, sniffed. “I can’t.”
He shook her. “You can. And you will. Take it and go. Make a better life for yourself. It’s the only chance you have and you know it.”
Denying it, she ran back to the little shack she called home, crawled into the pallet her ma had used. It still smelled of her. Missing her ma, missing her pa, missing anything good in her life, she pulled the blankets in tight and wept. Wept for what life had taken from her, wept for the pitiful existence she was left with.
She ached to go back to a time when her pa would grin at her over the bar at the Stardust Saloon, when her ma would greet them with a kiss on the cheek when they returned. When she wasn’t so alone she was even grateful for the rat scratching in the corner.
Staying wasn’t an impossible idea. Surely, she could find some work. The problem would be finding enough to keep food in her belly and a roof over her head without bartering her body. She held no illusions. She’d lived long enough to see what some women were forced to do to survive. She didn’t judge them. But that didn’t mean she wanted to join them either. Nor did she want the life John Paul had chosen.
She kicked her legs to scare the rat when it started to head her way. It scurried away and disappeared into the dark corner across the room.
No, she didn’t want to be a thief. Accepting stolen money when the situation was dire was one thing, but a life of it? That wasn’t what she wanted.
As the night wore on, as rain splatted on the floor from the leaking roof and the wind moaned through the cracks, she thought to herself, wasn’t her situation dire?
The moment she opened the door to that kind of thinking, it didn’t take long for justifications to follow. She could take the money and make that life she’d always dreamed of. She could find the perfect place and build the saloon she and her pa had dreamed of. And as the idea took root, as the images came so clear she could close her eyes and walk through her own place in her mind, she knew she’d made her decision.
But with it, she made herself some promises. It wouldn’t be stealing. It would be a loan. She’d use the money to make something good, make something better-make herself better-and she’d save until she had every penny paid back. And once she had the money saved she’d find a way to get it back not to John Paul, but to those he, Quinton, and the others had stolen it from.
“John Paul, I know I wouldn’t have what I do if it weren’t for you and, because of that, because you’re the only family I have left, I’m giving you the same chance you gave me. Go now, while you still can.”
He nodded, looked over his own shoulder. “I’ll try. But you know Quinton. Once he has an idea in his head...”
“Then go without him. Don’t let him ruin any more of your life.” And knowing she couldn’t afford to waste any more time, she turned Lady around.
“Wait!”
Silver looked back at him. “What?”
“Did you ever build that saloon you used to talk about?”
Her heart skittered in her chest. He might have been all the family she had left but that didn’t mean he had her complete trust.
“No,” she lied. “But I do have a good home and honest work at the boardinghouse. Goodbye, John Paul.”
He nodded. “Goodbye Sil.”
Much as she had all those nights four years ago, Silver didn’t look back. She’d done what she’d had to do both then and now. But as she rode Lady down the hills and into the valley, she knew it wasn’t so simple. Four years ago, she’d really felt as if she had little choice. She had more
now. Yes, John Paul was her cousin and she did owe him, but she also owed every person they’d robbed and wronged in those years. Every person they’d hurt. While maybe her warning them would spare Marietta, she didn’t delude herself into thinking their thieving days were over.
Nor was it contained to thieving any longer. They’d killed Albert. And while she’d never put it together before now as Quinton and John Paul’s gang was hardly the only group of outlaws and thieves pillaging the west, their presence coinciding so closely with Katie’s coach being robbed couldn’t be a coincidence. It was logical they were the four men who’d taken that coach outside of Chico. Which meant they were responsible for the shotgun rider’s death.
Oh, God, she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t just let them go. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if more innocent people were hurt because she’d kept her tongue. Cousin or not, family or not, she had to tell Shane what she knew.
Shane. Her stomach tightened into a fist. Her heart squeezed until she gasped with the pain of it. She was going to lose him. The only man she’d ever loved and she was going to lose him. But if she didn’t tell him, she’d lose herself. No amount of church cleaning, meal donations, or auctioned baskets would ever make up for her silence this time.
Chapter Twelve
“You let her go?” Quinton raged when JP finished telling him who he’d run into when he’d gone looking for game. He didn’t know which fact stunned him more, that Sil was here or that John Paul had been fool enough to let her go after what she’d done.
“She stole from us and you just let her go?” he repeated.
Despite Quinton outweighing JP by at least fifteen pounds, John Paul didn’t cower.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “She’s my cousin and I knew you wouldn’t be happy to see her. I didn’t want her hurt.”
“I’m beginning to think I was right all those years ago,” Quinton said, stalking forward. “You did help her steal that money, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t. I was out cold, same as the rest of you when that money went missing.”
If he were lying, Quinton couldn’t tell by the man’s face. That didn’t mean he believed him.
“Instead of arguing and wasting time, shouldn’t we heed her warning? The law is coming for us. We’d be idiots not to hightail it out of here right now.”
“We’d be idiots not to go after her and demand our money back,” Dirk growled.
JP’s glare slid to Dirk. “You fancy the noose? Because I sure as hell don’t.”
Quinton didn’t either but he was no fool. Something wasn’t right.
While family loyalty had been nonexistent in his house growing up, he understood it. And there was no doubt John Paul and Sil had been close, but Quinton couldn’t see her riding up alone, knowing—other than JP—they wouldn’t be happy to see her.
She’d stolen three thousand dollars from them and then risked riding in alone? That took gumption. A hell of a lot more than even stealing the money and leaving town in the first place.
“There won’t be a noose,” Quinton stated.
They’d escaped savvier lawmen and posses than that two-bit sheriff and his pair of deputies. No, Quinton wasn’t worried about the noose. His mind was on something that was actually possible. Getting his three thousand dollars back.
“There’s a reason she don’t want us in town. She’s hiding something. And I think we need to see for ourselves just what that is.”
“You want to go into town, despite her warning?” JP gaped.
“That’s just what she says. It don’t mean it’s true,” Dirk argued.
“It’s true enough she knew we were here and where to find us,” John Paul argued.
“Yeah. She’s not lying about everything,” Quinton reasoned. “You said she works in a boardinghouse. That’s possible. Albert said he’d seen one.” Quinton’s lip curled. “He also said there were two saloons in town.”
John Paul was shaking his head. “She said she worked at the boardinghouse.”
“Well,” Quinton drawled, “that don’t mean she was telling the truth.” He rolled back on his heels, spat out a wad of chaw. “A shame Albert didn’t mention that other saloon’s name. Guess we’ll just have to go and find out for ourselves.”
“Now?” Dirk asked.
“No. We’ll find another place to lie low for now. No point in being sitting ducks when the sheriff comes back.”
“Why don’t we just forget about her and the plan and move on?” JP demanded.
Quinton drew his pistol. The cock of the hammer was louder than the howling wind. John Paul went still as a statue. Not even his eyeballs moved.
“You’ll do what you’re told or you’ll end up like Albert. It’s your choice.”
JP’s jaw flexed but he eventually agreed. “Fine. We’ll do it your way.”
Quinton holstered his pistol, watched John Paul as he started gathering his gear. He met Dirk’s hard gaze and knew the man was thinking the same thing he was. JP had outlived his usefulness. He’d be of no use to them in town, not if his priorities were with his cousin. But they’d deal with him later. First they had to pack up and get out of there. Let the sheriff believe they’d moved on.
Then he’d deal with John Paul when he didn’t have to worry about that nosy sheriff discovering another body.
And finally he’d get his money back. He’d planned on the bank, but suddenly revenge was a much better idea.
By the time they’d gotten back last night and Shane had taken care of Justice and washed off the day’s grime, he’d been exhausted. With nothing to show for his efforts, as the outlaws had abandoned their camp before Shane gathered Owen and Mitch and ridden back into the hills, he’d trudged up the stairs and collapsed into bed.
He’d needed sleep just and he knew he wouldn’t get any rest if he went to Silver. Though the tracks had led toward Bozeman, he wasn’t convinced the outlaws were heading in that direction. If they had the bank in mind and knew Shane was on to them, chances were good they just wanted Shane to believe they were gone and were biding their time until he let his guard down.
They were in for a surprise, then, as Shane was no fool.
He rolled out of bed early, shaved and dressed in his usual white shirt, black pants, and vest. He strapped on his gun belt, ensured the six-shooter was loaded. Though he was anxious to see Silver, she wasn’t normally up at this time of day and he headed to the restaurant instead. He had a quick breakfast and, since Mitch’s words about finding Melissa crying on her step continued to scrape at Shane, he headed for the cobbler’s. Melissa might be too soft a woman for him but he’d hurt her deeply, on her birthday and, while he’d already apologized, he wanted to check up on her, ensure she was all right.
The wind hadn’t let up since last night and it tugged at his hat. Dark grey clouds rolled over the mountain peaks. They’d have a storm by late afternoon.
The moment he was spotted, folks walking the boardwalk called his name and aimed in his direction. Wagons pulled over and men peppered him with questions about the man he’d found murdered. Soon, he’d gathered quite a crowd. Because he’d been mostly gone since discovering the body, Shane took the time to answer their questions, but he couldn’t alleviate all their fears.
Shane figured the leader had lied about his name and that right there told Shane the man was not to be trusted. There was every chance they were gone and an equal probability they’d just picked a different hiding spot. This was big country and he wouldn’t have found them the first time had it not been for Jedidiah telling him where he’d seen them. So he just told folks to be careful, to keep an eye out, and to let him know if anything suspicious happened.
After being waylaid a good twenty minutes, Shane finally made his way into the cobbler’s. The shop smelled of leather, glue, and polish. Several pairs of shoes and boots in a variety of sizes lined the shelves, ready for sale. Mr. Lake was bent over his new acquisition, a McKay sewing machine, which sewed the soles o
f shoes to the uppers much faster than hand stitching.
Melissa looked up from her chair where she was polishing a new set of boots. When she recognized him, her gaze fell back to her work. Judging by the boot’s high black shine, the vigorous rubbing she was giving the leather wasn’t based on need.
Hating that she wouldn’t look at him even though he deserved it, Shane removed his hat, walked further into the room. His movement must have caught Mr. Lake’s eye because the older man glanced over his shoulder. Seeing Shane, he stopped the machine, stood. Mouth set in a fine line, he marched to the counter. Melissa tossed the boot aside and hurried to her father’s side. Despite the embarrassment coloring her cheeks, she grabbed her father’s arm.
“Father, don’t—”
He shook her off, the action surprising Shane. He’d only known the man to coddle his daughter. Mitch’s earlier words about her being beaten triggered an alarm in Shane’s head and he peered closer at Melissa. She didn’t look scared. Neither was she cowering. She simply stepped back, resigned, and accepted her dismissal. They didn’t need to have a future together for Shane to wish she’d stand up for herself more.
“What are you doing here? Isn’t it enough you broke my daughter’s heart?”
Considering Mitch had caught her crying, it wasn’t a surprise her father would know what had transpired the night of her birthday.
“I’m not proud of that, sir, but I apologized to Melissa. I explained why.”
“You explained all right.” He shook his head in disgust. “Instead of a nice girl like my Melissa, you’re chasing after Silver Adams.” His face reddened. “She’s nothing but a saloon girl and you chose her over my daughter!”
Shane’s hands tightened around the brim of his hat. “She’s not a saloon girl. She’s an honest businesswoman, a good woman, and a loyal friend.”
And he hated that by defending Silver, he felt he was throwing his choice in Melissa’s face. Damn it, that wasn’t why he’d come. He didn’t want to hurt her any more. Turning his attention from her father, he focused on Melissa.
A Sheriff's Passion Page 23
