The Fire in Ember

by DiAnn Mills

  A mile from the ranch, they still hadn’t spoken. The only sound was the creak of his saddle and the steady rhythm of horse hooves. Birds sang rather mournfully, like a funeral dirge, or so John thought. Normally he enjoyed the birds and insects greeting the day. But not this morning. He had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that refused to go away.

  “I don’t like this anymore than you do.”

  She continued to sob.

  “Wish you wouldn’t do that.”

  “I … can’t stop.”

  “Bert, why did God put you in my life?”

  She sucked in a breath. “How would I know?”

  “Well, I’ve never met anyone who aggravated me like you do.”

  “I’m sorry.” She loosened her grip from around him.

  But he liked her holding on to him. “Best not let go. In the dark, you could fall and I’d never find you.”

  “That might be a blessing.”

  John didn’t think losing Bert could ever be for his own good.

  In the east, the sun slid over the horizon in a thin arc of orange and yellow. Tonight it would dip down over the mountains. Always the same. Only man and his schemes changed. John wished he had a plan of sorts instead of the gut-wrenching notion that the terror from the McCaw gang five years ago had come calling again.

  His first stop was at the Wide O, and he heard her gasp when they turned toward Oberlander’s ranch. “I want him to see you with me,” he said.

  “Like I can’t be stealing cattle if I’m in jail?”

  “I’m not putting you in jail. It’s house arrest.”

  “Same thing.” She relaxed against him. “I understand, though. I really do.”

  Her tiny body against his back continued to do strange things to him. Things he shouldn’t be thinking about. “I also want to see if any of his ranch hands can be deputized. If any of them are working with Leon, they’ll not want to volunteer.”

  “Makes sense. John … I never led Evan to believe I was interested in him.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Thanks. That’s important to me.”

  It’s important to me too.

  At the Wide O, John left Bert sitting on his horse to show her he trusted her. Hopefully that wasn’t a mistake. He knocked on the door and waited until the Mexican man greeted him.

  “I’d like to see Mr. Oberlander outside,” John said. “It won’t take long.”

  A few moments later, Oberlander joined him and the two stepped onto the front porch. “What brings you out here so early in the morning?” He glanced up at Bert. “Trouble?”

  “I’m trying to prevent any. Taking Bert into town where Marshal Culpepper can keep an eye on her. A lot of talk going on and I don’t want folks taking the law into their own hands.”

  “Smart man.” He waved at Bert. “Mornin', Miss.”

  “Good mornin’ to you, Mr. Oberlander.”

  Wonderful. She knew when to use manners. “I have a favor to ask of you. Are you willing for any of your ranch hands to be deputized in the search for the missing cattle and rustlers?”

  “Sounds like a good idea. I’ll walk down to the bunkhouse now and ask them.”

  “Thanks. I know Bob is getting some men together, and I’ll have him stop here first later on this morning. We’re putting together a reward too. Won’t be a lot but it might cause a man to volunteer.”

  “Appreciate it. I’ll kick in a few dollars.” The two shook hands, and John climbed back on his horse—a bit of a maneuver with Bert behind him.

  “I’m telling you, John,” Oberlander said. “If the rustlers aren’t caught, I’m arming my ranch hands.”

  What could John say? The Wide O had issued a challenge, and he could do nothing if Oberlander chose to protect his own property.

  John and Bert rode into Rocky Falls with the hustle and bustle of morning bringing the town to life. Bob hadn’t gotten to the marshal’s office yet, so John decided to take Bert to breakfast like he’d told Mama. He wasn’t hungry, but if he didn’t get some food in his stomach, he’d be weak before the day was over. And for sure, it would be a long one.

  “Where are we going?” Her first words since leaving the Wide O.

  “Breakfast. Then we’ll find the marshal.”

  She stiffened against him. “Nothing’s changed. I can’t tell you what you want to know, because I have no idea who’s behind the cattle rustling.”

  “I’ve heard it before.” He refused to put any emotion in his words. She might learn how he felt about her and use it against him. “But I’ll find you a decent place to stay.”

  “I heard you mention Bess. Who’s she?”

  “You’ll meet her at the hotel. A good woman. Her lot in life seems to be taking care of soiled doves and cooking fine meals.”

  Bert didn’t respond. He started to add he wasn’t accusing her of earning a living like them. But she could have. He shoved away the thought, not wanting to think of her as a woman who used her body to earn her keep. Right now he was convinced God must have played a joke on him by having him fall for a woman he knew nothing about.

  “How long will I have to stay in Rocky Falls?”

  “Until this blows over.”

  “I want to finish paying you back. Either working it out at your ranch or sending you the money from somewhere else.”

  “The money no longer has any importance. Other things have taken over.” And that was all he intended to say about the matter until he sorted out the problems in his life.

  Once inside the hotel, Bess caught his eye. She greeted him and pointed to a round table covered with a blue-flowered cloth. He had his speech all prepared about Bert, and he should have felt good about getting rid of her. His heart said no to abandoning her, but reason said he needed to keep her and his family safe.

  Bess brought two mugs of coffee and set them in front of John and Bert. “Is this the little lady Bob was telling me about?”

  “Yes ma’am. Miss Bess, this is Bert—no last name. Oh, her first name is really Ember.”

  Bess patted Bert’s arm. “I’ve known lots of girls with no last names. Do you prefer Bert or Ember?”

  “I’ll answer to either.” She glanced at John, and he read the sadness.

  “Well, I like Ember. I’ll get you both a plate of breakfast, and then we can talk.”

  Good, Bess must have been agreeable to the idea of Bert living there.

  Within thirty minutes, Bert had a small room near the kitchen and a job keeping things clean. John figured if he had to entrust his charge to anyone, Bess was the person. He was hungrier than he thought, but Bert picked at her food like a chicken pecking at pieces of grain.

  “We’ll be back later,” John said when he paid the bill. “Thank you for helping us.” He turned to Bert, prompting her to show some gratitude. She said the right words, but misery cloaked her voice and eyes.

  Once they began their walk to the marshal’s office, John considered voicing his thoughts while he still had Bert alone. “I appreciate the fact you didn’t ask Evan to help you get away.”

  “I wouldn’t put him in danger or take advantage of his affections.”

  “Then I’m going to ask you to continue by staying with Widow Bess. She’ll be good to you.”

  “Ugly things could happen whether I’m here or at your ranch.”

  John stopped and studied her again. Unless he was a fool, she was more scared than trying to cover up a crime. He sure wished she didn’t have such big brown eyes and smooth skin. Her lips reminded him of flower buds, and her hair … “When are you going to trust anyone?”

  Tears welled her eyes. “If I could, John Timmons, it would be you.”

  Now why did she have to say that?

  CHAPTER 20

  That afternoon Bert swept out the dining room of the hotel, wishing hard she had the means to leave town. But Marshal Culpepper told her she’d be thrown in jail if she so much as visited the outhouse without letting Widow Bess know. She
’d rather be at the 5T helping Leah, but she didn’t have a choice there either. In fact, nothing was her choice.

  Make up a song. That would capture her worries. Except neither the words nor the joy of a tune comforted her.

  Bess stepped from the kitchen, her swishing skirts announcing her arrival. She busied herself behind the registration desk that faced the dining area. Bert pretended to ignore her, when in fact the woman made her feel uncomfortable. Seemed like Bess saw right through her, and some things Bert chose to keep private. Maybe some of the girls who worked at the saloon had been hurt too.

  Bess planted her hands on her ample hips and stared at Bert. “Can you cook?”

  Bert swallowed a sigh. “I’ve done some cooking.”

  “Good. I need help tonight with supper. Need some chickens plucked for dumplings.”

  Bert nodded. She’d finished sweeping and could use anything to keep her mind from mulling over her predicament. “Whereabouts outside do I pluck them?”

  “I’ll show you. Come on. We can do it together.”

  Misery clung to Bert. She’d prefer to handle those chickens by herself. Talking to a woman who was friends with Marshal Culpepper didn’t settle well.

  “You look real happy about being here, Miss Ember.” Bess chuckled.

  “I appreciate what you’re doing, ma’am.”

  “What is it then? I understand John needs you here to keep you safe and make sure you’re not involved with cattle rustlers.”

  Bert stiffened. “Do I look like a cattle thief?”

  “What about Oberlander’s mare?”

  One more person knew about her near-hanging. Bert shook her head. “It’s all complicated. But I didn’t steal the horse, and I had nothing to do with the cattle rustlers.” That much was true.

  Bess pointed toward the kitchen. Bert followed her out onto the back porch where the smell of blood from the chickens met her nostrils. Bess picked up a large bucket of steaming water and grabbed the two beheaded and gutted chickens by the feet and plunged them into the steaming water. Three other chickens draped over the porch rail, their guts spilling out onto the ground where a couple of cats enjoyed a feast.

  “If you’ll start pulling out those feathers, I can clean these others.” Bess picked up a large knife and waved it. “Mind you get all of those pin feathers. Burn them out of their behinds. Make ‘em as smooth as a baby’s rear. Our guests deserve the best.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “This afternoon’s prayer meetin'. We have it about four o’clock before supper guests, and the girls have to go to work.”

  Bert weighed the words, trying to figure out what she was supposed to do.

  “I can’t leave to go to church, so I hold it right here on the back porch with a couple of the girls from the saloon,” Bess said. “That means we need to get these chickens done and the mess cleaned up. Hard to talk to Jesus when cats and birds are picking at the chicken guts. Hopefully a breeze will carry off the smell.”

  What had John gotten her into?

  “Are you a believer?”

  “In what?”

  “God.”

  “Sorta,” Bert said.

  “Honey, you either believe in Jesus or you don’t. Which is it?” Bess wielded the knife again, and with her size, Bert knew better than to rile her.

  “Girl, don’t look at me like I’m going to whittle on you. I simply asked a question.”

  “I went to church a couple of times with the Timmonses.”

  “Bein’ in a building doesn’t make you a believer.”

  What does? “Ma’am, I’m confused as to your meaning.”

  “Thought so.” Bess split the chicken right down its belly. “From the talk around town, you need Jesus in your life. Especially if you’re about to get hanged as a cattle thief.”

  Bert’s eyes widened and her stomach churned. She yanked out a handful of feathers, burning her hands in the hot water.

  “No need to fear dying if you have Jesus.” Bess shooed away a cat that had gotten too close to the chickens.

  Bert tossed a handful of feathers into a gathering pile on the ground. For sure she wasn’t ready to die. “Where do I find Him?”

  Bess stood and grinned. “Thought you’d never ask.”

  CHAPTER 21

  John and Bob rode out of Rocky Falls with three of Oberlander’s men and four volunteers, following up on a lead that Bess had heard the night before. One of the ranchers riding with them stated he’d seen Leon Wilson southeast of town near Sparky McBride’s ranch, the High Plains. A deserted cattle camp bordered McBride’s land and the 5T, and Leon could be holed up there. Farther south led to deep canyons, which was a smart place to keep stolen cattle and a prime area to hide from the law. But to get there, he’d have to cross the High Plains and a long strip of land owned by Victor Oberlander. Hard to drive cattle over either of those areas without being spotted.

  Leon might be looking for work, or maybe he had plans to rustle cattle. In any event, he needed to be questioned, to find out where he’d been when the cattle turned up missing. Sure would be nice if Leon could supply more answers than Bert.

  As the men made their way closer to the small deserted cabin, the sound of gurgling water from a white-churned mountain stream drowned out their arrival. The nine men spread out around a grove of juniper and pinion trees in case Leon decided to make a run for it.

  “Don’t open fire,” Bob said for the third time. “Leon Wilson, you in there?”

  John studied the brush leading up to the cabin. Broken sticks and boot prints showed two men had come and gone.

  “We need to ask you a few questions,” Bob continued. “No need to get alarmed. Just come out peaceful like so we can talk.”

  Empty moments ticked by.

  The bubbling stream didn’t miss a beat. Neither did the birds.

  A hawk flew overhead, reminding John of Sage’s red-tailed pet, a bird of prey that had saved her life before she and Parker were married. She and Parker’s experience with a gang reminded John too much of what was happening around him.

  An elk tramped through the woods.

  A marmot dashed from the brush.

  “I’m going in.” John leaned on his saddle horn. “Don’t think anyone’s there anyway.”

  Bob raised his rifle to signal the others to keep John covered. “Leon’s not happy with you. Be careful.”

  “Yer right about that.” John recognized Leon’s voice. “I ain’t hangin’ for something I didn’t do.”

  Surprised to learn the man was actually inside the cabin, John made his way to the door. “Leon, we’re not here for a hanging. You already know how I feel about upholding the law. Marshal Culpepper feels the same.”

  “He’s right,” Bob said. “All we want to do is ask a few questions.”

  “I’m no fool. Seems to me a marshal who’s a undertaker is an enemy.”

  John dismounted and stole closer to the back of the small dilapidated cabin. No windows revealed his whereabouts, unless Leon could see through the cracks in the logs.

  “Then let’s talk about it,” Bob said. “I’m not making an accusation.”

  “I’m supposed to believe you? Oberlander fired me, and his ranch hands are ridin’ with you. Timmons is chapped ‘cause I tried to hang that gal for stealing a horse.”

  “I’m here to uphold the law. Like John said.” Bob’s voice thundered above the sounds of nature.

  “Bull. You won’t take me alive.”

  The sound of gunfire pierced the air, and a sharp sting dug into John’s upper left arm. He dove onto the ground while rifle fire exploded around him.

  Bert had just removed an apron and draped a wet towel over the back porch rail, opposite of where the chickens had been cleaned, when Bess called for her. Every muscle in Bert’s body ached for rest. She’d not slept last night or for the past several nights worrying about what was going on with Simon. Surely Bess didn’t have another chore for her before the prayer meetin'. Any ot
her time, Bert would have welcomed the work to occupy her thoughts, but not today.

  Bess stood in the doorway leading inside to the hotel’s kitchen. “Got some bad news. Thought you should know about John.”

  Bert’s gaze flew to the woman’s face. Her heart plummeted to her feet, shaking her body in the fall. “What about him?”

  “He’s been shot in the arm. Not bad, and the doc’s treating him now.”

  Bert’s stomach sickened. Too many scenarios raced through her mind. “How did it happen?”

  “The marshal, John, and some deputized men rode out to find Leon Wilson. He refused to come out and opened fire. John was in the way.”

  Bert gasped. “But he’s going to be fine?”

  Bess nodded. “That’s what one of the deputies said. We could walk down to Doc’s and see for ourselves.”

  “Yes. I’m ready.” The two hurried inside, through the kitchen, the entrance of the hotel, and on outside to the boardwalk. Bert’s head whirled with the thought of John being wounded. “At least they got Leon.”

  Bess didn’t answer right away, and Bert studied her as they kept up a good stride. “He’s dead,” the older woman said. “Hate to see a man end his life in violence, but the local ranchers can relax ‘cause the cattle rustlin’ is over.”

  Bert didn’t know how to feel about Leon’s death. Although he’d tried to hang her, she didn’t want him dead. And she was relieved he’d stolen the cattle and not Simon and her brothers. “Did they find the cattle?”

  “No, but a couple of the men are looking for them. He most likely wasn’t working alone.”

  Bert refused to dwell on the missing cattle. The livestock would be found and returned … soon. Her thoughts focused on John and how badly he might be wounded. Had anyone ridden to tell Leah? She remembered the distraught look on Leah’s face when John rode off with Marshal Culpepper and then with her this morning. And the tears. The poor woman would be devastated.