Chapter 9
No matter how she tried to calm herself, Hannah was wracked by a nervousness she didn’t normally experience. Baxter’s trial would get underway tomorrow morning. Tomorrow! She’d been so sure that she would be able to find the real killer, but she had nothing, not even a viable alternative to offer. All she had was the lame argument that no one had actually seen Baxter thrust that knife into Reverend Clancy’s heart.
Church services that morning were conducted by a traveling preacher who had taken over for the departed Reverend Clancy until a permanent replacement could be found. The sermon had been dull and lifeless, and half the men in the church had been snoring in their pews before it was done.
Hannah herself hadn’t slept well in three nights. How could they doze off so easily when an innocent man was about to hang?
Ah, but only she and Rose believed Baxter to be innocent. She’d been able to convince no one else.
Entering the hotel lobby, she felt a wave of complete and utter desolation wash through her. Hopeless. This endeavor she’d taken so to heart was absolutely hopeless! Seeing Virgil Wyndham, obviously just from his bed and making his way to the dining room, did not cheer her mood.
“Miss Winters,” the gambler said with a half smile and a tip of his small-brimmed hat. “How lovely to see you.” He followed this polite greeting with a small belch he almost managed to stifle with a raised hand.
“Mr. Wyndham.” She nodded politely with every intention of continuing on without so much as slowing down.
Wyndham managed to ruin her plan by stepping deftly into her path. “I heard about your family’s bad fortune,” he said, raising his eyebrows in what he might have intended to be a sympathetic expression. “How dreadful for you.”
“Thank you for your concern,” she said, taking a step to the side so she could make her way around him.
His step mirrored hers. “If there’s anything I can do,” he offered. “Anything at all...”
Well, she hadn’t spoken to Wyndham, since he was a visitor and not a resident. But he did have a regular room here at the hotel. He was her last hope. How dreadful.
“Were you acquainted with Reverend Clancy?” she asked.
Wyndham smiled. “I’m afraid I’m not a church-going man, Miss Winters.”
“Of course not.” She sighed.
“But if I hear anything,” he added with a wink, “you’ll be the first to know.”
“Thank you.”
Thank goodness, the gambler finally nodded his farewell and sauntered off toward the dining room.
Hannah was heading up to her room to freshen up before the noon meal and he was heading downstairs when she ran, almost literally, into Jed Rourke. For some reason, she found it easiest to take her frustrations out on him. Simply looking at him fired her anger.
She could manage a moment of politeness even with that weasel of a gambler, but Jed brought every emotion to the surface. There was no way she could nod and smile and offer a meaningless greeting.
“I didn’t see you in church this morning,” she said, glancing up sharply. She always had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye, and with him standing a couple of steps above her, the distance was exaggerated. Dressed entirely in buckskins and leather, with that battered wide-brimmed hat that shaded his eyes on his head, he looked as rough and tumble as ever.
“I wasn’t there.”
The widow Clancy hadn’t been there, either, Hannah thought bitterly. Jed denied being involved with Sylvia, and Hannah wanted to believe him; she truly did. And yet when she thought of the two of them together it made her blood boil. What man could resist a woman like Sylvia Clancy when she all but threw herself at him?
“Are you going down to lunch? Or breakfast?” she asked sharply.
He grinned. “Neither. Rico is riding with me out to the Benedict ranch to look over a couple of horses. I need a new one.” He winked at her insolently. “Try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone.”
“I’ve managed quite well without you for the past twenty-nine years,” she said coolly. “I think I can make it though one day without your supervision.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, stepping down and around her, his arm brushing against her casually as he passed. Big and warm and solid, his nearness, his easiest touch, was nearly overpowering. Oh, that blasé collision was no accident at all!
“Animal,” she mumbled as she resumed her trek up the stairs.
“Vixen,” he said just as softly, and with what might have been a touch of affection.
She didn’t look back, but opened the door to her room and stepped inside, gratefully closing it behind her. “Brute,” she whispered, satisfied in some small way that she had, this once, gotten in the last word.
She almost stepped past the folded piece of paper on the floor. Someone had apparently slipped it under her door. Considering the run-ins she’d had with the residents of Rock Creek in the past week, she fully expected a threat of some kind.
But when she unfolded the paper she got a surprise. The letters were written in a firm, even hand.
I know who killed Reverend Clancy. Meet me at Wishing Rock. Sundown. Tell no one. If you do you’ll never know the truth.
Trembling with excitement, she refolded the paper. She’d known all along that someone in Rock Creek had to know the truth. Obviously this person was afraid of being seen talking to her, but had decided to reveal what they knew before the trial got underway. Not everyone wanted to see an innocent man hang.
Had the person who wrote the note slipped it beneath the door while she’d been in church? Or was he, or she, still lurking in the hotel somewhere?
Or had she passed him on the stairs moments after he’d slipped the note under her door?
If that were true, if Jed had written this note, what did he really want? To discuss the trial? Of course not. If that was the case, he would have asked her to join him in the dining room after the lunch crowd left. Instead he’d left town with the excuse of purchasing a horse, so she’d have no opportunity to ask him outright if he’d written the note. His wink on the stairway took on a whole different meaning, with this note in hand.
Why did she feel like this was a test of some kind?
If Jed had, indeed, written the note, the request might have nothing at all to do with Baxter’s trial. The very idea made her heart skip a beat. She was not completely ignorant where men and their ways of thinking were concerned. There were times, brief moments, when Jed liked her more than was natural. When he looked at her and an unexpected sparkle touched his eyes, when he grinned and she saw something there she couldn’t quite decipher. Last night he’d almost kissed her, under the cover of darkness, in a moment of weakness. But of course he wouldn’t want anyone to know that he felt anything for someone like her.
Tell no one.
It would serve him right if she tore his note into a hundred small pieces and forgot his enigmatic request. Let him wait. It would serve him right for being so confident that she’d do as he commanded.
But she had to consider the possibility that Jed had not written the note, that someone really was ready to tell her what had happened to Reverend Clancy. Either way, it would be foolish of her to do as the note commanded and ride out to Wishing Rock alone.
She freshened up at the basin and redressed her hair. Her church dress was too fancy for a noon meal in the Paradise Hotel, so she removed it, hung it up neatly, and laid out a warm, sensible gray skirt and matching jacket, and a blouse with a touch of lace at the collar. She also chose her most comfortable boots. As she studied the ensemble, she realized the skirt was cut wide enough for riding, and the jacket was lined and would protect her against the wind. She dressed in the outfit, then collected her velvet cloak from the wardrobe.
She was not afraid of Jed Rourke or any other man who might be waiting for her at Wishing Rock. After dinner, she’d see the man at the livery about renting a gentle horse and a sidesaddle.
* * *
“H
ellcat,” Jed muttered to himself as he and Rico rode south.
“What?” Rico asked, glancing to the side. “Nothing,” Jed said with a wide smile, adjusting the brim of his hat so it shaded his eyes. The trip out to the Benedict ranch was a quick one, on a mild, cool day like this one. Away from town the sun seemed warmer, the air sweeter and calmer. It was surely that fresh, cool air that made his insides feel lighter. Damn near buoyant, in fact.
“You are scaring me, amigo,” Rico said as the Benedict place drew near.
“Why’s that?”
“I have never seen you smile so much. I fear you are losing your mind.”
“May be,” Jed said without anger. “May be.”
“It is a woman,” Rico said wisely.
“May be,” Jed said, his grin fading slowly. It wasn’t like him to allow another person to affect his mood this way. And a woman! That woman, in particular! It made no sense at all. Hannah was meddlesome and cantankerous, and had a fresh mouth on her.
For some reason, those qualities endeared her to him. Too bad she had a plantation waiting for her in Alabama, responsibilities and roots. Too bad Hannah Winters was everything he’d spent a lifetime running away from.
But sometimes he took one look at her and wanted to run to her, not away. He wanted to toss her over his shoulder one more time and carry her off. To where, he didn’t know. He never did.
“So, you are going to get back together when her mourning is past?”
“Mourning?” Jed cast Rico a surprised glance. Would Hannah go into mourning for Baxter?
Wait a minute. Back together? The kid was obviously talking about Sylvia, not Hannah.
Jed grinned. “You’re not so all-fired wise after all, Kid,” he said. When Rico tried to question him farther, Jed spurred his borrowed horse toward the Benedict ranch.
* * *
The miles between Wishing Rock and Rock Creek went by more quickly on horseback than they had on foot. Fortunately, getting lost was not a possibility, since the rising mound of stone was visible from just north of town.
“Wishing Rock,” Hannah whispered, her eyes on her destination. Jed had told her, the night of the robbery, about the legends surrounding the tall rock. As she rode toward the place where she and the other stagecoach passengers had spent that night, she asked herself what she really wanted, and what she would be willing to pay to have her most heartfelt wishes come true. The legends were nonsense, of course, but still... she wondered.
First of all, she wanted Baxter to be freed, but that was not a personal desire. It was a craving for justice, a desire for what was right and fair. She also wanted Rose to be happy, to be reunited with her husband and to put this nightmare behind them. Could they do that in Rock Creek? Likely not. There would be too many bad memories for them there, too many averted glances from those who had been so quick to condemn Baxter.
A cold wind whipped her hair, and she grabbed even tighter to the saddle horn as the stiff breeze pushed the hood of her velvet cloak back and tore her hair loose from its once-neat knot.
Wishing for justice and her sister’s happiness was one thing. What did she want for herself?
It was not a question she asked herself often, but the answer came to her immediately. She wanted someone to love her the way Baxter loved Rose. That was an impossible wish, of course, magical rock or no magical rock. What else did she wish most dearly for? Her heart sped up and her blood went cold. Ah, she knew the answer to that question too well. She wanted to close her eyes and go back in time and... Well, she thought, shaking off her melancholy as she always did, that wish was as impossible as the foolish whim that she might inspire great love in a worthy man.
A more practical approach was called for. What did she want?
She wanted... She wanted to know what it was like to kiss a man like Jed Rourke. A man who was, for all his faults, a real man in every sense of the word. She wanted to surrender all her reservations, to dismiss her nagging doubts and fall into his arms. Just once. That was not an impossible wish, was it? No, it was very, very real.
Wishing Rock grew closer with every step of her rented horse. She would arrive just before sundown. Was the informant already there, waiting? Or would he arrive behind her?
And would it be Jed who arrived?
* * *
Benedict had offered a good selection of horses, and Jed had picked a sorrel gelding that was sturdy and tall. And fast. Hellfire, he could race this damn horse, if he had a mind to.
Back in Rock Creek, Rico said good-bye and headed off to Three Queens, the establishment that had once been a perfectly good saloon, and Jed went into the hotel hungry and anxious to see Hannah.
Eden and all the younguns greeted him enthusiastically, and he promised the boys a shooting lesson later in the day. Eden fed him, and all the while he ate he kept glancing toward the dining room entrance, waiting for Hannah to appear and give him hell for one reason or another. She never did show.
Once his late lunch was finished and the kids were settled down, he called Eden over to the table. “Where’s Hannah?” he asked, trying to sound completely indifferent.
“I don’t know,” Eden said with a small frown. “I haven’t seen her since dinnertime. Rose came by a while back looking for her, and we couldn’t find her. I imagine she’s out questioning people about the murder. She’s quite upset about the ordeal, you know,” Eden added in a lowered voice.
“Yes,” Jed said absently. But even when Hannah was questioning everyone in town, she’d made a point of checking in with her sister often. She made her way from one place to another, asking questions and getting herself worked up and stopping by the general store on occasion. She hadn’t just... disappeared.
He felt an unpleasant tingle down his spine. A tingle of warning. “I’ll run over to Rose’s and see if she’s shown up there.”
The town was quiet on a Sunday afternoon, the streets all but deserted. There was no sign of a cantankerous hellion who liked to stir up trouble wherever she went. Rose and Bertie hadn’t seen Hannah since church let out. No one he passed and questioned on the street had seen her. By the time he got back to the hotel he was troubled. What had the fool woman gotten herself into this time?
“Maybe she’s sick,” he mumbled as he entered the hotel lobby. No one was there to hear him. He bounded up the stairs and pounded on her door. “Hannah! If you’re in there you’d better speak up before I bust down this door!”
He expected Eden to come rushing up the stairs to chastise him at any moment, but no one appeared. The hallway remained deserted and too damn quiet as he waited for an answer.
“Hannah!” he shouted, giving the door one last thump with his fist before laying his hand on the knob and finding the door unlocked.
Jed shoved the door in so hard it banged against the wall. It was clear from the doorway that Hannah was not here, sick in her bed. Nothing was amiss, in fact, he noted as he stepped inside. Her clothes hung neatly in the wardrobe. Perfume, a brush and comb, and a fancy container of powder sat on the dresser.
Fool woman. What the hell has she gotten into today? Jed thought as he turned back toward the door. As he did, he saw the slip of paper lying in the center of the neatly made bed. He scooped up the paper and unfolded it. As he read the note he began to curse, low and foul.
He crumpled the note in his fist and tried to still the return of that warning tingle.
“She wouldn’t have,” he muttered to himself as he ran out of her room and down the stairs, stuffing the note in his pocket as he went. “Surely she wouldn’t have.”
But he knew in his heart that if Hannah thought there was even a small chance she could clear Baxter, she’d ride out to Wishing Rock and whatever danger waited there without a single second thought.
Chapter 10
Hannah grasped the reins of her rented mare as she paced by the tall rock with the decidedly feminine shape and began her wait. Sundown was coming. The sun hung low in the Western winter sky, its brillia
nce fading already. Sheltered from the wind by the grouping of rocks, it was not so cold here, and still she was chilled to the bone. The rocks apparently hadn’t soaked up even a little bit of the winter warmth that shone down on her. Instead, they seemed to retain last night’s cold.
She saw the rising dust of a rider headed her way and stopped pacing to watch the cloud make its way toward her. Her heart thudded much too hard, and she couldn’t quite manage to take the deep breath she felt she needed. What if she found herself out here, far away from town, in the company of the killer? Maybe he had lured her out here in order to do away with her the way he’d done away with Reverend Clancy.
That was a risk she was willing to take.
In a matter of a very few minutes she made out the horse in that cloud of dust, and the figure of a man on its back. The horse itself was not familiar, but before too much time had passed the rider was more than clear. No one else in town was quite so tall, in buckskin and leather that almost blended into the brown and gray backdrop of this desolate landscape. The tail of Jed’s long buckskin coat whipped around him, and he leaned low over the horse’s neck. He rode full out, as if racing to get here.
She didn’t know whether to be elated or disappointed. If Jed actually had any information about the murder, he’d share it with her openly. He wasn’t afraid of anyone. He wouldn’t care who knew that he was helping her.
Her heart fell. Except Sylvia. He had promised the widow he would see Baxter hang, hadn’t he? He wouldn’t want his old friend to know, if he had secrets about the murder to reveal.
Then again, this assignation might have nothing at all to do with the murder or tomorrow’s trial.
She prepared herself to do battle with Jed, if need be, steeling her heart and her spine as he came closer and closer. Even when he was near enough to see her waiting, he didn’t slow his pace.
Suddenly his head jerked to the side. He reached over his head to draw a rifle from the scabbard that hung at his back. He drew the weapon smoothly, expertly, guiding the horse with his legs and quickly taking aim at a smaller cropping of rocks across the way. Hannah turned her eyes in that direction and saw what had no doubt caught Jed’s eye. The glint of a rifle barrel.
Jed (The Rock Creek Six Book 4) Page 11
