Adam's grip tightened. “I can handle Takola. You know I can."
This time, Lacy had no argument ready. Yes, Adam could handle Takola. Between Grandpa and Adam.... “Okay. I'll stay, but please, please be careful and Adam"—she drew in a fortifying breath—"Don't let her do anything foolish."
"I won't.” Adam smiled and pulled her in for a quick kiss. “Lock the door after we leave and don't let anyone—anyone—in. Understand?"
Lacy managed a nod. Her throat felt tight, as did her chest. “I understand.” She grabbed his arm as he started to turn away, feeling his muscles jump in response to her touch. “Adam? Bring her back safely."
"I will."
Her grandfather patted her cheek as he walked by her to the door, his gaze comforting. “We'll be back ‘afore you know it, Lace."
"Be careful Grandpa.” Lacy bussed his cheek and squeezed his neck before he could disentangle himself. When the door closed on them, she leaned against it and pressed her hot cheek against the cool wood. Her prayer was simple: Please God, bring them all home safely.
She reached up and slid the bolt home, wincing at the rusty sound it made as it slid into place.
* * * *
They left on foot—since Graham had arrived that way—and most of the journey was made in silence. As they climbed through the dark, silent trees, Rusty asked, “You didn't put the girl up to this, did you?"
A ghost of a smile lifted the corners of Adam's mouth before he replied, “No. I guess she was listening to the table conversation a lot closer than we thought."
Rusty was breathing hard from the uphill trek. He noted with satisfaction that the attorney was lagging behind. “She hears everthin', but it's hard to remember that when she doesn't talk none."
"Right.” Adam glanced up at the light glowing from several well-spaced lamps on the massive porch. He frowned in thought. “I wonder how she managed to sneak past those men."
As if he had conjured them up, Adam heard several warning clicks an instant before he saw the shadows loom in front of him. The mayor's henchmen coming to greet them, he realized, eyeing the rifles pointed in their direction. Adam tipped his hat. “Evenin'."
"Unbuckle your guns, nice and easy there,” one of the shadowed figures growled.
Both men did as he asked without hesitation, letting them fall to the ground. What else could they do? Adam thought. Yet he sensed their unease as well and found himself looking forward to seeing the mayor. Obviously, Takola had somehow managed to outwit a whole passel of experienced men and the mayor to boot.
Adam wisely held his smile at bay.
"Walk."
Adam and Rusty obeyed, striding ahead of the henchmen and straight into the open doorway of the big house. They were taken upstairs to the mayor's bedroom, the location of which Adam remembered well. Somewhere along the way, they lost Graham Silverstone.
The door stood open. As they were pushed forward into the room, Adam quickly took stock of the three men—all facing the same direction. Slowly, his eyes followed the line of rifles to where the mayor sat in a high-backed, velvet-lined chair by the fireplace. A tray lay upturned at his feet, its contents scattered on the carpeted floor. Adam surveyed the mess, catching the pungent aroma of boiled cabbage, and figured Takola had snuck up on the mayor while he was eating his dinner.
Takola stood behind the chair with her back to the wall. Her slender arm curved around the mayor's neck to such a degree that Adam knew if Goodrich moved or attempted to move her arm, he would be in deep trouble. The mayor himself looked petrified, his eyes bulging as if she physically choked him. Takola held the blade of a kitchen knife against the fleshy part of the mayor's neck.
Adam stared into Takola's dark, fathomless eyes for a long moment, hoping to convey a silent message. With a barely perceptible nod, Takola indicated that she understood. Adam breathed a sigh of relief; she would not harm the mayor. In fact, he detected definite humor in her dark eyes.
Obviously the mayor wasn't taking any chances. Adam's lips twitched. A thirteen-year-old girl no bigger than a mosquito had managed to take the town giant hostage, a man who employed no less than twenty bodyguards.
How had she gotten past...? Adam's silent wondering ended as his saw the open window. She had climbed the trellis, of course! He turned slightly, meeting Rusty's narrow-eyed gaze, and realized the older man had also figured out how Takola had gotten in. They exchanged brief, admiring glances before Rusty took the initiative.
"Girl? You all right?” When Takola nodded, Rusty removed his hat and scratched his head, leaving a tuft of gray hair standing straight up. He clamped his hat upon it. With a shrug, he looked at each of the gunmen in turn. “Guess she wants you to leave the room, boys."
The mayor started to speak—until Takola angled forward and pressed the knife a tiny bit harder against his neck. His Adam's apple bobbed, but he gave up trying to talk. The pasty white of his face became tinted with blue.
Adam choked back a laugh. He suspected the knife wasn't sharp enough to peel a potato, but the mayor wouldn't know this.
One of the gunmen, a short, stocky man with a wicked scar running parallel across his nose, stepped forward and growled, “How do you know what she wants? The little savage doesn't talk, does she?"
Adam caught the gleam in Takola's eye and jerked his head once in a sharp, negative gesture. “She doesn't have to talk. We know what she wants, and she wants you boys to leave the room.” His voice dropped to a low warning drawl. “And I'm figuring you'd better do it fast or that knife's gonna slip.” Almost before he finished speaking, the gunmen began backing out of the room. Rusty kicked the door shut with his boot.
"Ease up a little, Takola, so the mayor can talk without cutting his own throat.” Adam chuckled at his pun. He hooked his fingers into his belt loop and sauntered closer to the mayor, beginning to enjoy himself. Rusty followed, unable to keep a silly grin from his face.
Takola eased the pressure just enough to allow the mayor to speak, but no more. She smiled openly now, knowing the mayor couldn't see her.
Goodrich swallowed hard and his voice came out as a squeak, giving testimony to his fright. “I—What is it that you want?"
"Information. Lots of it. The truth."
"Wha—what truth? I told you all I know.... “Takola tensed her arm and the mayor let out a raspy squeal that sounded remarkably like Big Red.
Adam nodded and Takola obeyed, once again easing the pressure. Apparently, it was enough to convince the mayor she understood everything being said and that she meant business. “Well? We're listening, Goodrich."
"And we don't have all night,” Rusty chortled, enjoying the show.
"You can start with the day my grandfather died."
Carefully, the mayor lifted his hand and wiped the sweat from his eyes. Takola's arm held steady. “I didn't kill him."
"But you were there.” Adam tensed, his eyes narrowing on the mayor's face. “A witness saw you go into Murddock's office around the time he was found."
Goodrich darted his frightened eyes from one intent face to the other. His thick, bejeweled hands trembled where they lay in his lap. “He was already dead when I got there,” the mayor said with a defeated sigh. “I swear it. All I did was search the room—and him—for the will. The body was still warm, so I must have just missed whoever killed him."
Adam jerked in reaction. He loosened his fingers from his belt and let his hands fall to his sides so he could clench them. It was either that or choke the life out of the mayor as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. If the mayor had searched Colt, it explained why he was swinging when Lacy found him. “Why did you want the will? What did the will have to do with you?” he demanded in a dangerously soft voice.
Silence stretched. Adam nodded at Takola.
"Wait! I'll tell you, just please.... “He gulped, sweating hard now. “I figured ... since Murddock was dead and he didn't have any family close by ... that it wouldn't matter."
The wor
ds whistled from between Adam's clenched teeth as he demanded, “What wouldn't matter?"
"Me and Murddock, we were partners in the mill.” When Adam's eyes narrowed to slits, he rushed on, “No one knew; that's the way he wanted it. I tried to get him to sell out when I had enough money saved up, but he wouldn't. Said he wanted to keep a hand in it."
Adam felt some of the tension ease out of him. The mayor's reluctant confession collaborated with Graham Silverstone's story. Silverstone said Colt Murddock thought it best to keep a hand in a few things for the good of the town. It was a relief to discover his grandfather had not trusted Jamis Goodrich, either.
It also raised another question. What else had Murddock kept a hand in'? How many other upstanding citizens in Shadow City would hate to see the resurrection of Colt Murddock's will? Silverstone had indicated that Colt had told no one, not even Rusty, of his assets. Not exactly smart of him, was Adam's reluctant thought. Unless his grandfather had been completely confident the will was safe.
Adam shook his head, knowing he would have to sort everything out later. Right now there were questions to ask. “Did you find the will?"
"No ... I swear on my mother's grave, I didn't find it.” The look of frustration on his face convinced Adam he was telling the truth, which immediately led Adam to another disturbing question.
"So when you found out who I was, you decided to just get rid of me?"
When the mayor looked blank, Adam frowned, reminding him, “The night you or one of your boys shot at me.” And almost got Lacy instead.
The mayor started to shake his head, remembering the knife at his throat in the nick of time. “I told you after it happened that I didn't have anything to do with it and I'm tellin’ you again. It wasn't me or my boys."
Rusty broke his unusual silence. He grunted. “I guess you didn't send that bad boy to the jailhouse last night, either."
"No. Yes.” Goodrich looked pained. “I sent him, but not to kill you."
Adam's lips curved in a sarcastic little smile. “Maybe just to convince me to leave town? But then, you had more than one reason for that, didn't you, Goodrich? You didn't like Salvage settin’ up his business, and you didn't want me snooping and finding out about Colt owning part of the mill."
Goodrich didn't deny either accusation. “Peters wasn't supposed to set fire to the jailhouse. He was supposed to rough you up a little as a warning."
Adam's brow shot upward. “He? You sent him alone?"
"No, he wasn't alone,” the mayor surprised them by saying. “That's how I know what really happened. Glen Anderson was with Peters when the fire started, but they didn't start the fire."
"Then who did?” Adam demanded tightly. His patience was beginning to wear mighty thin.
Both Rusty and Adam tensed as they waited for the mayor's answer. Takola looked on with a sparkle of interest in her almond-shaped eyes.
* * * *
Lacy stopped her pacing long enough to glance at the clock. An hour. They had been gone an hour. Please let Takola be all right, she continued to pray. And Adam and Grandpa.
Thunder, but she hated waiting almost as much as she hated not knowing!
After they left, she settled Ben into bed for the night despite his grumbling about it being his job to watch over her. But his protests lacked strength and he looked tired. She finished her chores in the kitchen, sweeping up the broken glass and nearly bursting into tears as she recalled the passionate scene with Adam only a short time ago. When that was done, the pacing and waiting began.
Now, an hour later she was still pacing. And waiting.
When she came to the end of the stairs, she glanced up, catching sight of Ben peering around his bedroom doorway for the third time. She pretended not to see him, knowing he was only doing what he thought a deputy should be doing: watching over her. She felt guilty about putting him to bed, but she was too tense to have him underfoot asking a thousand questions. Soon, his natural need for sleep would keep him in bed. She whirled and began the familiar journey across the room for a quick peek out the window.
What had Takola been thinking to attempt such a dangerous task? But Lacy knew ... she knew. Takola was doing this for Adam. With a frustrated sigh, Lacy collapsed onto the sofa. Beside her was the pile containing Adam's things he'd saved from the fire. The painting, the photo of Sheriff Murddock . But no clothes. The faint odor of charred wood hovered around the painting.
Adam would need clothes, and an extra pair of boots. Shaving utensils.
A place to sleep.
Her eyes fell upon the painting, anything to take her mind off what might be happening at the mayor's house. She ran a hand over the rough surface, noticing how it had buckled in a few places. Probably from the heat. The canvas would have to be stretched and flattened again with something heavy, and a new frame fashioned.
She could manage the former. With a burst of restless energy, she swept the painting up and marched into the kitchen. This was something to do, something she could do while she waited for them to return.
Safe and sound. Yes, they would return safe and sound.
She refused to believe anything else.
Lighting the lamp in the kitchen, she put the painting on the table and quickly went to work prying the blackened frame loose. The wood came apart easily in her hands. She worked carefully, aware of how much the painting meant to Adam. He had risked his life to save it, and the photo of his grandfather.
Everything else had been lost.
Finally, she pried the last piece from the canvas and set it in the pile with the rest of the disassembled frame. There was a thin wooden backing pressed to the canvas and Lacy turned the painting over so that the backing lay face up. She didn't want to tear the painting, and it appeared to be stuck. Working patiently, she loosened the edges and slowly lifted the backing free. She set the backing against the wall, doubting that it could be reused. Nevertheless, she would let Adam decide.
Dusting her hands, she turned back to the painting, her gaze falling upon the envelopes lined neatly from top to bottom. Four in all, they were yellowed with age and the wax seals had melted and smeared. The wax, Lacy realized as she stared in bemusement at the envelopes, had been the cause of the back sticking to the canvas.
Excitement added a noticeable tremble to her hands as she cautiously pried the first envelope from the canvas. Could one of these envelopes be the missing will Adam spoke of?
She held the first envelope up to the light and had begun to pry it open before it occurred to her what she was doing was wrong. These were Adam's belongings. But her curiosity wouldn't allow her to put it down.
If one of the envelopes contained the will, it meant Adam would own the ranch in Wyoming. Lacy squeezed her eyes tightly shut. He'd have a home to go to, and not just a dream that had yet to materialize.
Did she want to know? And what was in the other three envelopes? Perhaps there was a clue to what had been happening, something vital that Adam would need to know about now.
Lacy convinced herself that her reasoning was justified and proceeded to open the envelope. She read quickly, her eyes widening with each word. It was a deed to the lumber mill, she realized, and on the bottom line there were two signatures; Jamis Goodrich and Colt Murddock.
Dazed, she laid the envelope aside and pried the second one loose, working more quickly now. Excitement buzzed through her, as well as shock and fear. The implications of that first deed frightened her.
The second envelope contained the deed to the Snake River Ranch in Wyoming, located near the mouth of Snake River—all six hundred acres of it—and she wasn't surprised to note only one signature, that of Colt Murddock. She added the deed to the first and started on the third envelope.
It was a bank deposit to the tune of fifty thousand dollars at the Shadow City bank. She lifted an eyebrow at the sum, a strange despondency seeping into her heart. Adam was rich. He owned a ranch, part of an extremely profitable lumber mill, and had cash in the bank. Somehow, this m
ade him seem further out of reach than before. What would he need with a widow, two unpredictable children and a grouchy old man when he already had everything a man could desire?
The fourth and last envelope held Colt Murddock's last will and testament. Lacy's knees began to shake. She pulled out a chair and slowly sank into it as she scanned the contents.
She was halfway down the page when a shadow fell across her line of vision. Her heart flip-flopped in her chest. Nerve-endings jumped instantly alert, tingling a warning.
Someone was standing behind her and it wasn't Ben; the shadow was too big, too dark. She could hear them breathing, could feel their breath stirring the shorter curls at the nape of her neck. She froze as her throat closed up, locking the scream inside. Ben ... Ben was upstairs sleeping and she didn't want to awaken him. He would charge recklessly to her rescue, and she couldn't risk him getting hurt.
How had they gotten in? And then she remembered that she had not locked the back door. She'd been too worried about the others to think of her own safety, and Ben's. While she was pacing, they must have slipped in, hiding and watching her....
Lacy strangled on a sob.
"Well, well, well,” a rough voice drawled in her ear. It was followed by a nasty, pleased-sounding chuckle as the aged paper was snatched from her suspended hand.
Lacy remembered to breathe when the light began to dim, and when she did, she drew in the distinct smell of cattle, wood smoke, and stale sweat.
An unpleasant collection of scents she remembered from a long time ago.
On a chilly day in May during Blackberry Winter.
Shaking inside, but striving to appear calm on the outside, Lacy stood and faced the man. He was older, and his hair was shorter, neater, but she recognized him. The bulky overcoat she remembered was gone, of course. He wore a western style shirt with silver tassels swinging from the pockets. Silver studs decorated the sleeves, with matching the silver buttons. His jacket was wrinkled, but of good quality, as was the snakeskin boots he wore. Expensive leather pants hugged his muscular thighs, but it was his belt buckle that drew her attention, nearly hidden by the strap of his gun holster.
Secrets In The Shadows Page 25
