Under a Falling Star

by Caroline Fyffe

  The cantankerous man didn’t budge. He’d had just enough whiskey to feel invincible.

  Albert straightened in the saddle. “Get back! All of you. If you’re looking to get locked up, just stay where you are.”

  Thom Donovan, walking on the boardwalk, hefted the shotgun he carried in his hands. The men stepped back and the wagon continued forward, coming to a halt in front of the bank.

  Dalton looked edgy, too. His gaze bounced from the roofs of the buildings to the bystanders who lined the street. The whole scene playing out would have been fascinating if Susanna weren’t so worried for everyone’s safety.

  “What do you think it is?” an unknown woman standing next to Susanna asked the man at her side. “It looks mighty important.”

  “It’s a million dollars,” her companion answered. “Heard talk of it on the train, but thought the person telling the story was making it up. Now I see it’s true.”

  The woman gasped. “A million dollars!” she said at the top of her voice. Faces turned to look at her.

  Frank Lloyd hurried out, hefted one of the trunks from the back of the wagon, and then disappeared inside his bank. He repeated the process twice until he had the three trunks safely inside. He closed and locked his door. Dalton dismounted and looked around.

  Their eyes met. Susanna looked away but not before she saw him nod in recognition.

  Oh, why hadn’t she shared her past with Albert before this? He would’ve understood she’d not had any power to change her mother’s ways. Now, if and when the truth got out, surely everyone would think differently about her, especially Albert. He’d feel duped. He’d shared amusing stories of his early life back on his parents’ farm, the trouble he and his brothers had caused—and the punishments they’d received. Shame had kept her quiet about her past. Now, she just might pay the price with her whole heart.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  With Evan Stone in the care of the doctor, and the money now locked in the bank’s safe, Dalton released a sigh of relief, but he couldn’t let down his guard. He nudged his shoulder against the wooden siding next to the bank’s front door to get comfortable and struggled to keep his eyes open. The fact that Evan was still alive had been a shock—but a good one. His fellow guard was in critical shape, but Dr. Thorn had given him a slim chance of recovery—the one saving grace of the day. Blowing the roof had been the right plan of action.

  He dragged his hand over his whiskered jaw, stifling a yawn. He hadn’t had a wink of sleep since his short nap before the calamity yesterday. Necessity and excitement alone had kept him on his feet, but now that he was stationary, he had little hope of staying awake much longer. As soon as Albert sent a replacement, he planned to flop down in the bed that had opened up in Frank Lloyd’s guest room.

  Dalton lifted a heavy hand and touched the brim of his hat in acknowledgment of a buggy filled with women passing by. He felt like a wooden Indian on sentry outside a smoke shop. Everyone was interested—or maybe it was talk of the million dollars. Either way, every man lingered in the doorway to the saloon next door, gawking.

  “The Union Pacific has a crew on the way to repair the track.”

  Dalton turned to Albert, who’d appeared from the opposite direction. The sheriff held several telegrams in his hand. “Preston,” he said in greeting.

  “That, along with several stagecoaches to begin the dispersal of passengers. And here’s a reply to the telegram you sent yesterday.” He handed one of the brown slips over to him.

  Dalton scanned the words. “Good. They’ll pay anyone we trust to stand guard until they arrive. They’ll get here as soon as they can.” He looked up at Preston. “Does the Union Pacific have a timetable of when the train will be moved and the track repaired?”

  “It’s too soon for any of that, but I’m sure the representative will get here as soon as he can. I also sent a telegram to Fort McKinney asking for a dozen soldiers to come and stand guard. I don’t like asking the men of Logan Meadows, many who have families, to put their lives on the line.”

  Dalton straightened, stretched his back muscles, then let his hands fall down to rest on the hilts of his guns. “I’m still puzzled. There’s been no sign of Pat Tackly. No one has found the head guard’s body have they?”

  “No,” Albert said. “I’ve been wondering about that myself.” He nodded to a woman hurrying past. “Ma’am.” He smiled and doffed his hat.

  “I’d like to send out more searchers,” Dalton said, nodding to Win, who had just arrived. “I’m not ready to give up on him yet.” He also wanted to dispel his growing suspicion that his fellow guard might have had something to do with the wreck.

  “Go get some sleep, Babcock. You’re about dead on your feet. The money’ll be safe for now. I have a man across the street watching from inside our newest establishment, Harrell’s Haberdashery. With him, Win here, and myself, you needn’t worry. I’ll also see what I can do about rounding up some more men to keep searching for Tackly.”

  On the hill across the way men worked in the cemetery, their shovels glinting in the sun. “In all honesty, sleep sounds darn good. As much as I’d personally like to stand guard all the time, I can’t.”

  “When you return, I’m headed up to the plateau where the boulders came loose and started this trouble. There’s just something niggling at the back of my mind.”

  Dalton cut his gaze away from the grave diggers to look at Albert and Win. “You suspect foul play?”

  “Anything’s possible. With a cash shipment this large, it wouldn’t be unheard of to have men here waiting for the train’s arrival. It’s not a far stretch for them to assume we’d bring the cash to the bank rather than leaving it in the train car. What better cover for a heist than a calamity on a grand scale?”

  Susanna spotted Dalton on the boardwalk before he saw her. Between his rumpled clothes, bloodshot eyes, and slumped shoulders, he looked exhausted. He went along slowly, as if each step were a chore. His gaze halted the moment their eyes met. She guessed it wouldn’t serve any purpose to try to avoid him now that he’d told the doctor, as well as Brenna and Violet, that they were old friends.

  “Here you are, Suzie,” he said, his friendly tone warming her. “I’ve been thinking about you. And Miss Taylor,” he added quickly. “How’s she feeling?”

  “About how you’d expect after what she’s been through, poor thing.” His smile appeared and she remembered that even though she didn’t know him well back in Breckenridge, she’d thought him attractive. Imagine, he’d defended her against his sister. She hadn’t known that about him. “I just got off at the infirmary and am doing a few errands before I head home for some sleep.” Taking his arm, she turned him around so she could see the back of his head. “Are you free now? Since you’ve not lifted a finger to take care of yourself, come with me to the doctor’s office just down the street. If Dr. Thorn’s not there, I’ll get this disinfected myself. It’ll only take a moment.”

  He chuckled and held his ground. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m about to fall asleep on my feet. I’ll doctor it as soon as I get to Mr. Lloyd’s house. He just offered me a room, and told me the same thing. He has a new bottle of iodine in his medicine cabinet.”

  She arched a brow. “Frank has a nice place. You’ll be comfortable.” She couldn’t miss the gleam in Dalton’s eyes, and wondered if it was the prospect of the nice house or something else. He seemed interested in her, but then why wouldn’t he? She was the only one in the town that he knew.

  “Where do you live, Suzie?” he asked, and glanced up the street. “Is it close?”

  “Yes.”

  His smile widened. “In the same direction as Frank’s?”

  She nodded.

  “You’re going my way, then. Let me walk you home for old times’ sake. We never really got to know each other very well. You were always so shy.”

  I was the girl from the wrong side of the tracks. At his intense gaze, she looked away.

  “I’d like to r
emedy that right now,” he said. “You haven’t told me much about yourself.”

  “We’ve hardly had a chance.” She couldn’t stop a nervous laugh from escaping. Since coming to Logan Meadows, Albert was the only man who’d paid her any attention, in a more than friendly way. Walking with Dalton felt odd. She remembered seeing him around Breckenridge, washing windows or doing other small jobs to earn money when he was young, always polite and kind when their paths crossed. Once when he’d seen her, he’d backed up so fast he’d tripped over his water bucket and fallen into the street, his face turning a painful shade of red. Years later she recalled him opening the door to the dry goods store when he’d seen her coming. She’d thought at the time someone else must be behind her that he was trying to impress. Now she wasn’t quite sure. “Only if you promise me you’ll clean and dress your cut as soon as you get there.”

  A tired smile creased his face. “It’s a deal, Miss Worrywart.” He held out his elbow and waited for her to take hold.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Early the next morning in the sheriff’s office, Albert bit back a curse when he smashed his finger feeding the cast-iron stove. Pain radiated up his arm. He gave it a good shake, all the while remembering the picture Babcock and Susanna had made as the newcomer escorted her down the street.

  She’s my girl.

  A flash of uneasiness passed through him. Had the two just met, perhaps in the commotion of moving the injured passengers? A mite reserved, especially with newcomers, Susanna usually kept to herself. Even the prospect of the divorce papers arriving any day couldn’t lessen Albert’s concern. He should have insisted she listen to the truth, one of the more than fifty times he’d tried to broach the subject. Then she’d understand why he never made any advances to let her know what was in his heart. He would if he were free.

  He latched closed the door to the iron stove. As much as he’d like to attend to the matter now, he had pressing business to discuss with Chase Logan and Charlie Axelrose as soon as they arrived. He’d already discussed the situation with Thom at length, and they’d decided to bring Chase and Charlie in on it as well—and Babcock to a certain degree. At the moment, Win and Babcock were on guard at the bank, as was Frank Lloyd. Since the money had been stored in the vault, the banker hardly left the premises.

  The door opened. Chase and Charlie arrived together. Chase went straight to the stove only to turn and regard him with a confused expression.

  “Sorry, we’re out of coffee,” Albert mumbled. “Thom went down to the mercantile to buy some—if he’s lucky.”

  “That’s a fine how-do-you-do,” Chase said, none too happy. “I’ve never been in this office when there wasn’t a pot brewing.”

  “That may be, but since yesterday, supplies have been flying off the shelves. You may as well get used to it until we’re back to normal.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Charlie said. “I could hardly get past the stage office with all the people crowding in trying to get tickets.”

  Albert glanced out the window and down the street to the rumpled folks, jammed in the stage office. The line flowed out the door and down the walk a good ten feet. There was still so much to do to help them on their way.

  Thom came through the door empty-handed.

  “No luck?” Albert asked.

  He shook his head.

  Albert handed him a piece of paper. “Before I forget, I’d appreciate if you’d go to the undertaker’s and compare this list of passengers with his list of the deceased. Match names as best as you can. One of the porters dropped the names by this morning and I don’t have enough hands to do all the things I’m supposed to do. We’ll start sending out telegrams to the towns, and their sheriffs can deal with finding their next of kin.”

  Thom folded the paper and put it in his pocket. The three men pulled up chairs.

  “Fort McKinney has soldiers on the way,” Albert began. “Until they get here we’ll have to have guards at the bank and across the street twenty-four hours a day. I took a ride to the top of the bluff yesterday afternoon where the boulders came loose. It’s hard to tell with the rain and mud, but it’s possible that someone has been up there recently.” His three right-hand men watched with serious eyes. “That doesn’t mean the accident was planned, but, it does have me thinking. These last few months have been overly wet, making this part of the country a prime target for landslides. If anyone knew how close the tracks are set to that embankment those few miles around Three Pines Turn . . .” He shrugged. “It’s a far reach, but not impossible.”

  Charlie sat forward. “So, you’re saying we have outlaws hanging around here in Logan Meadows?”

  Albert swiped a palm across his stubbled face, reminding him that he needed to shave the first spare moment he got. “Could be. We’ll have to be vigilant. Maybe the guards were in on it.” He let that sink in. “Maybe they thought they could stop the train and make off with the money in all the commotion. Perhaps whoever was up on the hill dug out the base of the boulders and was waiting with horses, but when the inside guard got knocked out and they couldn’t get the door open, they had to scramble for another plan.”

  “Babcock?” Chase asked. “You think he’s involved?”

  “It’s crossed my mind.” The thought had kept him awake long into the night—or maybe it was the thought of the man cozying up to Susanna yesterday. So many problems pulling him in every direction.

  Charlie uncrossed his ankles. “And the missing third guard? Why would Babcock be concerned about finding him, and alert us to his presence, or lack of it? I’d think he’d keep his mouth closed if he were involved and they were waiting to make a play.”

  “He had to tell us about Pat Tackly in case one of the passengers or porters mentioned him. It would seem strange if he didn’t. I just hope Evan Stone eventually comes around. He might shed some light.”

  Albert had been so deep into the explanation of his theory he didn’t hear the door behind him open, or Susanna’s footsteps until she was standing alongside, a basket in her hands. The sight of her brought a rush of joy. “Susanna!”

  He’d lain awake all night conjuring up the worst about her and Babcock. Now here she was. Maybe the divorce papers would come today. He’d be happy to cast his single status away again as soon as he could, if Susanna would only say yes. He rubbed his whiskered cheek, a bit embarrassed, wishing he’d taken a second to clean himself up. “I’m not fit—”

  “You look fine.” Her gaze reassured him. “I’ve brought you some breakfast. With all you’re doing, I’m sure you’re not taking care of yourself—or taking time to eat. I thought you might come to work this morning without anything in your stomach.” She glanced at the others. “Morning, Chase, Charlie, Thom.”

  “Mornin’ Susanna,” the three chorused.

  “That’s exactly what I’ve done and I’m plumb starved.” Albert lifted up a corner of the blue-and-white checkered cloth covering the fare to see a jar of milk, a loaf of bread, some apple butter, and a few slices of beef. He reached in and felt the bread, right after he gave her a meaningful gaze. “Thank you. It looks real appetizing.”

  She gestured to the others. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I know your day must be busy as well.”

  “It is, but never too busy for you. Are you on your way to the infirmary?”

  “Yes, but after I stop by the restaurant to see if Hannah needs anything.”

  She’ll have to pass by the bank and Dalton Babcock. Albert’s fortunate feelings faded.

  “I’ll walk with you.”

  “Albert?” It was Chase; probably thought he’d lost his mind. Well, he had. Any sleep he could have gotten last night had been robbed by thoughts of her and Babcock walking down the boardwalk together.

  Susanna smiled, and a soft little laugh escaped her mouth. “You have a meeting going on, Albert. But there is something important I want to talk to you about. When you have a few minutes. I promise we won’t get sidetracked this time.” Her gaze dropped boldly t
o his lips, and lingered. As if she knew he couldn’t take much more, she glanced around him and smiled at his friends. “Good day.”

  The peanut gallery replied and she turned to go after she’d placed the basket of goodies on his desk.

  He turned to the men. “Give me a minute.”

  He opened the door for her and they stepped out onto the walk. “Susanna,” he said quickly, keeping his voice low. “Thank you for thinking of me.” He glanced past the saloon, to the bank, where Dalton stood watch. Win was across the street, stationed inside the haberdashery. He could feel Chase, Charlie, and Thom watching him and Susanna through the window. “You be careful passing the saloon.”

  “It’s seven in the morning, Albert; I think I’ll be safe enough.” Again, her gaze touched his face affectionately. “What’s gotten into you anyway?”

  Gathering his wits, he glanced across the small bridge in front of the livery where Clementine and Maximus were already in the front enclosure, munching on a pile of hay. If only he could blurt out the reasons he’d held back over the past two years. He’d profess his love—and she’d be overjoyed. But still, he couldn’t help but believe his best course of action was to wait for the official papers to arrive, setting him free, then court her for all he was worth.

  He gave her hand a small squeeze. “I just miss our lunches together. Everything feels off, since . . .”

  She nodded. “I know what you mean. Maybe if we’re not too tired tonight, we can take a walk. Like I said before, I have something important I want to tell you—but not now.” Again her gaze wandered to his mouth, and he realized she was longing for a kiss. How he’d like to accommodate her—if he were free.

  “It’s a deal. Now go on and I’ll watch until you pass the Bright Nugget.”

  She started off, and he couldn’t help but feel that not just Susanna had changed, but he had as well. Since taking the sheriff’s job in Logan Meadows, his life had been one of structure. And security. Get up, make the rounds, take lunch at the Silky Hen, and visit with his girl. More rounds, check all the doors, and turn in. Floria and her waffling about the divorce had been the only dark spot in his life. The gentle sway of Susanna’s skirt made his heart pick up tempo. Change was in the air or his name wasn’t Albert Preston!